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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25461724">Sojourn of a Thousand More</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JRC10/pseuds/JRC10'>JRC10</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Basia Mille [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Outlander &amp; Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adoption, F/M, Paris (City), Plot Twists, Pregnant, Sequel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:27:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>48,283</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25461724</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JRC10/pseuds/JRC10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to "Journey of a Thousand Kisses."</p>
<p>Jamie and Claire take a sojourn to Paris in the months after their wedding and are surprised by what they find.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Basia Mille [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1844236</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>404</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>351</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Un</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <a href="https://ibb.co/DCgV4VW">  </a>
</p><p>“At least it no longer reeks of frogs,” I said through the stench of ash in the air.</p><p>“Aye, it does. They’re just being roasted on a spit.” Murtagh peered through the carriage window at the ship engulfed in flames in the middle of the sea. Dizziness had me closing my eyes and leaning back against the cushioned seat as the horses carried us away from the aquatic inferno. The last thing I needed was another bout of nausea when we were trying to make a getaway as quickly as possible.</p><p>“Thank you for getting us out of there,” I said. “The Comte St. Germain looked ready to kill me.”</p><p>“And he would’ve done given half a chance. I fear ye’ve made an enemy of a powerful man, Claire.”</p><p>I opened my eyes and glared at the back of Murtagh’s head, “What was I supposed to do? Allow smallpox to run rampant through the ship’s crew and all of France?”</p><p>Murtagh turned his head and smirked.</p><p>“Oh, never mind,” I rolled my eyes.</p><p>He went back to peering out the window.</p><p>“How long before we get to Jamie?” I asked.</p><p>“At the pace we’re making...I dinna ken, maybe midday tomorrow.”</p><p>I audibly groaned at the thought of being in a carriage for so long. That boat ride was long enough.</p><p>“Yer wame is weaker than yer husband’s, woman.”</p><p>“It’s not usually so bad.”</p><p>“Hmphm. Ye spent the entire trip from Scotland kecking over the rail and feeding the fishes.”</p><p>An image of a school of fish eating my vomit made me even more nauseous. The revolting taste of acid filled my mouth as my body gave an all too familiar heave.</p><p>“Oh God!” I pushed open the carriage door, and a blast of freezing January wind struck me in the face. I leaned out and vomited what little fluid I’d been able to keep down since we disembarked from the boat.</p><p>Murtagh was right behind me with his hands on my shoulders, making sure I didn’t fall out of the carriage—much like he did when I was leaning over the rail at sea. He handed me a handkerchief when my stomach was empty. I sat back on my cushioned seat and closed my eyes once again.</p><p>“Ye sure ye’re alright?” said Murtagh tentatively. “I thought ye said ye werena prone to motion-sickness?”</p><p>“I’m fine...and I’m not prone to motion-sickness...typically. I just...there are extenuating circumstances.” I placed my hand on my belly as if calming the little one would settle the hormones and relieve my misery.</p><p>“Are ye wi’ child then, lass?” Murtagh’s voice was as soft as I’d ever heard it.</p><p>I couldn’t help my smile as I peeked out at him from the corner of my eye.</p><p>“Och, weel.” His eyes glittered and his scowl became a little less severe. “Congratulations to the both of ye. I bet the lad is tickled pink. No wonder he sent for ye wi’ such haste.”</p><p>“He doesn’t know, so don’t you dare say anything until I’ve had a chance to tell him. He was only supposed to be gone to Paris for a month or two to get what he needed from Jared to build the still at Lallybroch. We weren’t planning on Jared asking him to run the wine business while he went abroad. It’s lovely that he’s paying Jamie so handsomely and providing everything we’ll need for the still, but this Parisian sojourn was not in my plans.” I felt irrationally emotional by my little speech. I was only at the end of my first trimester, and my hormones were already driving me mad.</p><p>“It wasna in mine either,” Murtagh grumbled something under his breath about arses and armpits. His brows narrowed in concern as a thought came to him. “Wait...the letter...the one ye wrote yerself from the future. Is it safe for ye be traveling?”</p><p>“The letter said I should begin bedrest at five months gestation. That’s still two months away. I’m not having this baby without it’s father present. Bedrest in Paris is the same as bedrest in Scotland.”</p><p>Murtagh didn’t seem to agree.</p><p>“Jamie’s going to make such a wonderful father, isn’t he?”</p><p>“Aye. So ye better heed yer auld self’s advice and take care.”</p><p>I refrained from rolling my eyes by closing them and laying my head back once again. If I slept through the whole journey to Paris, then I wouldn’t have to worry about vomiting again. However, restlessness made sleep hard to come by. I was a newlywed, and only five months after my wedding, my husband was pulled away to another country. My impatience at seeing him again was almost unbearable.</p><p>I reached into my pocket and pulled out the last letter Jamie sent me at Lallybroch. It was too dark to read, though that mattered little; I wouldn’t dare attempt such a thing in full light with my stomach so queasy. I just held it close to my heart and recited in my mind his sweet words I’d committed to memory.</p><p>
  <em>“My dearest Claire…Only the thought of being able to confide in you, my Soul, gives me comfort…”</em>
</p><p>He missed me dearly, possibly as much as I missed him. He told me of his agreement with Jared and requested I join him—escorted by Murtagh—as soon as possible.</p><p>
  <em>“I yearn to lie beside you again, and know your body complicit with mine…”</em>
</p><p>We only had two more months to be complicit together before going on pelvic rest, and I intended on making full use of it.</p><p>“I dinna think we’re being followed,” said Murtagh, breaking my reverie, “but we’ll keep a steady pace throughout the night. Get ye and the bairn some rest now, lass. I’ll be sure to get ye to Jamie safe.”</p><p>Yes, I very much needed rest if I intended on being conscious for my reunion with my husband. My thoughts drifted to spending time with Jamie in Paris. They were mixing with memories I had of my own time there during the war. I wondered how different the city would be from the last time I saw it two hundred years hence.</p><p>In no time at all, I was dreaming of giving birth on top of the Eiffel Tower with airplanes dropping bombs all around and being shot down out of the sky.</p><p>When I finally woke up, I thought I’d rather face morning sickness—that didn’t quite adhere to its morning schedule—than the vividness of my chaotic dreams. Thankfully, there was nothing left for me to vomit the rest of the journey. I just kept my eyes closed, my hand resting on my belly, rubbing over the little one that was only the size of a plum.  I listened to the clopping of hooves and clattering of the carriage that brought me closer to my little one’s father.</p><p>
  <a href="https://ibb.co/cQQqZVv">  </a>
</p><p>Jared’s house was far grander than Jamie had made it out to be in his letters. The sheer number of servants that greeted us upon our arrival blinded me to the grandeur of our surroundings. A lovely, spirited woman called Suzette had the run of the house. She met us at the front door thrilled to have the lady of the house finally in her care.</p><p>“Of course, your husband has been missing you dearly. He had me prepare you a wardrobe for your arrival, and if there is anything else you should require, you must let me know at once!”</p><p>“Is Jamie here?” I asked, knowing it was highly unlikely for him to be home at midday.</p><p>“No, madame. He often returns at sunset or later in the evening. Shall I send a stable boy out to find him?”</p><p>“Oh no, thank you. I’d much rather surprise him when he gets home.”</p><p>“Oui, madame. I will inform the servants not to divulge your presence to Seigneur Fraser.”</p><p>Suzette gave us a tour of the house and introduced us to all the servants. By the time she brought me to my room, I was exhausted and desperate to sleep in a bed that wasn’t propped on wheels or water.</p><p>Suzette insisted on bringing up food and giving me a bath. Her reluctance to leave me in peace had me longing for my private space at Lallybroch. I didn’t touch the meal right away—my stomach still being quite unsettled—but I was tired enough to allow her to help bathe me. She used a fine French soap embedded with rose petals to wash away the filth of travel and days vomiting at sea. I indulged her special care out of both exhaustion and anticipation of my first time seeing Jamie in months.</p><p>She wrapped me up in one of several silk robes that she informed me Jamie insisted on buying. I could only imagine how badly he missed me that he filled my wardrobe with such frivolous luxuries. Practical man that he was, those types of purchases were generally out of his character. It was likely his means of doting on me while I was away.</p><p>When Suzette finally left the room, I forced myself to attend to the nourishment of my baby. My hormones didn’t want anything near my stomach, but the baby was eager for sugar and carbohydrates. The taste of the pastries she left me were so marvelous, I was tempted to eat the whole plate, but days of vomiting prompted caution, and I limited myself to a few bites.</p><p>Fearful of the return of nausea at the appearance of food in my body, I laid down on the large, extravagant bed. Jamie’s scent surrounded me the moment my head rested on the pillow. I buried my face in it and inhaled deeply, surrounding myself in the masculine scent. As my head buzzed with evidence of Jamie’s presence, I settled into the cushy mattress. The soft sheets caressed my travel-worn skin still tender from the thorough scrubbing. Fatigue overwhelmed my body until I drifted off into unconsciousness.</p><p>______________________</p><p> </p><p>“Non merci. J'ai déjà mangé.”</p><p>A voice drifted up through the window, waking me with a start. The speaker may have been conversing in perfect, unaccented French, but I could hear a familiar rumble of hypnotic tones in every word.</p><p>“Jamie,” I whispered to myself. I scurried out of bed and ran to the window. A flash of red hair disappeared into the house. I sucked in a breath to try to tame my racing heart...it was having none of my restraint. I did my best to comb my hair into submission, and I cleaned my teeth as thoroughly as I could.</p><p>Thankfully, Suzette or one of the servants had been tending to the fire in my sleep, so the room was warm and comfortable. When voices could be heard coming closer, I removed my robe and tossed it over a chair. I sat on the edge of the bed, body completely bare and curls falling wildly around my shoulders.</p><p>The door opened a crack. “C'est tout. Je vous remercie,” Jamie’s voice addressed one of the servants.</p><p>He pulled the door open and walked in, closing it behind him. My lips parted at the sight of him. His hair had grown in our months apart. It was clubbed back and tied off with a ribbon, but long tendrils had escaped at some point in the day and moved freely with every turn of his head. His face was shaved clean—an uncommon sight while he was in Scotland.</p><p>He pulled off his jacket in an annoyed huff, throwing it on the chair closest to the door. I was pleased to see he still wore his kilt despite the other more lavish changes in his apparel.</p><p>Halfway through pulling off his stock, he glanced up and saw me waiting. As if he didn’t believe his eyes, he shook his head and looked once more. I was leaning back, propped up by my arms. A shiver ran through my body as he took in the sight of me.  Gooseflesh spread over the expanse of exposed skin.</p><p>I expected a smile...a shout of joy. I expected him to call for his Sassenach and wrap me in his arms while he laughed in delight. I didn’t expect his brow to narrow as his eyes scanned my nakedness. And I certainly didn’t expect the tear that fell down his cheek and dropped to his sark.</p><p>“Jamie,” I whispered.</p><p>“Ye’re h-ere?” his voice cracked. “Oh God, Claire.”</p><p>He was on me in a few strides, colliding with startling force. His weight crushed me into the bed.</p><p>“Oh, my Claire,” he moaned with his mouth against mine, kissing like he was starved for me...and I remembered he was. He rucked his kilt up and buried himself in me before his clothes came off.</p><p>“Christ, Sassenach, I missed ye,” he groaned as he started moving his hips. “God, I love ye, mo nighean donn.”</p><p>My brain tried to form words, but he kissed them out of my mind. All I could do was wrap my arms around his neck and pull him impossibly closer. Our tears mingled together, unable to pull our faces apart as we made love.</p><p>Deprivation brought climax swift and unconstrained. It thundered in my ears, a symphony of blood pumping, breath panting, and bodies moaning. It was always more with Jamie, more than I expected, more than I imagined. Whatever it was between us that we couldn’t explain permeated the deepest parts of my existence. Too much and never enough all at once.</p><p>He lay collapsed on me, not allowing air to fill my lungs. I wouldn’t have protested, except I could no longer breathe in the scent of him. He didn’t get off me when I squirmed beneath him; he just redistributed his weight so most of it rested on his arms. His forehead stayed pressed against mine and his lips unmoving on my cheek. Our faces were curtained by his long, gorgeous hair that I’d pulled out of it’s ribbon at some point in our mad coupling. I ran my hands through his vibrant, soft curls.</p><p>“I missed ye, wife,” he said, low and serious. “I willna ever go so long wi’out ye again.”</p><p>“It was an excruciating two months.”</p><p>“It felt like twenty years. ’Twas foolish to have ye stay home and help wi’ the running of things. I was sick wi’out ye after merely a week.”</p><p>I wrapped my whole body around him and squeezed, thinking of the little one growing in my belly. “You have no idea.”</p><p>“I don’t?” he pulled his head up, grinning. His smile was so beautiful, I nearly bubbled over with laughter. “Ye think ye were more pained than I was wi’out ye?”</p><p>
  <a href="https://ibb.co/HH07LxS">  </a><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“I do. In fact, I’m certain of it.” This baby was a blessing, I thought to myself, but it wasn’t exactly pleasant being pregnant alone. “I love you, James Fraser...dearly.”</p><p>“Hmmm. And I...you, Claire Fraser...my Lady Lallybroch.” He caressed my face, his rough fingers gentle on my cheek. “Bòidheach.”</p><p>He kissed me slow and savoring. I had missed the feel of his lips on mine, his warm, wet kisses softer than Parisian silk. He kissed with his whole body, never one to hold anything back. I felt it down to my toes, and my body squirmed eagerly against him despite its recent satiation.</p><p>“Take off your clothes,” I demanded. “I want to feel you.</p><p>He chuckled but complied. His eyes were on me while he disrobed, admiring the curves of my body with a self-indulgent smile. “I’ve much to tell ye, Sassenach, but all I want to do is hold ye in my arms and make love to ye all night ’til my body gives way.”</p><p>“That sounds marvelous.”</p><p>His body was still in glorious physical condition. I imagined him demanding parritch for breakfast and scandalizing the French servants with his bizarre appetite. And I thought of him hauling around wine barrels all day to keep fit.</p><p>“To be in a city of lovers wi’out my love has worn heavy on my heart. How often I’ve dreamed of having ye here, of what I’d do to ye…”</p><p>He was on me again, my virile, young Highlander.</p><p>“Oh? And what did you have in mind?”</p><p>He kissed me with a smile on his face. “Were ye no’ paying attention to what we just did, Sassenach? Perhaps I’ll make it more memorable this time.”</p><p>His cock hadn’t lost it’s rigidity since the moment he walked in the room and saw me naked. Not even climax could keep my young Scot down...not after so much time apart.</p><p>He pushed in me again, this time with far more tenderness. He cradled my body as he made worshiping love to me. To be possessed and cared for so diligently by the man whose child I carried was endlessly reaffirming. We were already bound by our love for each other, and now we’d be bound by a life growing inside me.</p><p>We made love for the sake of closeness this time, for the sake of inhabiting a space reserved only for each other, a space of body and soul connected by a shared purpose and meaning of existence. Our hands were everywhere, reacquainting themselves with the body of their mate, confirming the exquisiteness of their memory.</p><p>This slower, tender love-making lasted much longer than the first. On and on he moved inside me, and I prayed my body had the endurance to make it last until the lingering ache in my heart from our two-month separation was gone. But my travel-worn body began to give way, and Jamie rallied his endless supply of energy to lead us to a glorious end.</p><p>As we lay recovering, I couldn’t stop touching him. I needed his skin on my fingertips to help me believe he was really there. I settled in the crook of his shoulder and allowed my hands to roam free. Lallybroch was our home, but without Jamie, it was just the place where our family lived. There in his arms, in a bed I’d never touched before, in a room I’d never seen, in a city I hadn’t been in for two hundred years, I felt more at home than I had anywhere else in my life.</p><p>Jamie’s mind must have been on home, too, because he asked, “How are Jenny and Ian? And the weans?”</p><p>“Everyone’s well. Jenny sent some letters along for you, and Ian wants you to hurry back with plenty of whisky in hand.”</p><p>“And wee Jamie?”</p><p>“He misses his uncle. He plays all the time with the little wheeled horse you sent him.”</p><p>“Hmmm,” he smiled contentedly. “And Maggie? She crawling yet?”</p><p>“She is! And she’s far more spirited than her brother was at that age, apparently.”</p><p>“She’s giving her Ma hell, then?”</p><p>“Indeed.”</p><p>“Serves her right,” he laughed. “And the land? The tenants?”</p><p>“Everything is fine, my love. You left after harvest, and not much has been happening all winter.”</p><p>“Hmphm,” he grunted in approval. He breathed a deep sigh of relief. Ever the laird, he was only content when his people and his land were cared for.</p><p>He nuzzled into my hair, sniffing deep, like a horse or dog might do to their mate. “Ye smell different, Sassenach.”</p><p>“I washed with Suzette’s rose petal soap. I don’t think my skin has felt so soft in ages.”</p><p>“Hmphm,” he grumbled as if in disagreement of some kind.</p><p>“You don’t like it?”</p><p>“Hmm? Oh no. I like it fine. I just dinna think it’s the soap that's sae different.” He shrugged and kissed the top of my head. “How was yer trip? Murtagh saw ye safe? I didna expect to see ye for another week, at least.”</p><p>“We had favorable weather and wind.” At least, that’s what I was told. I wasn’t paying attention to much other than my nauseous misery. I had a healthy new respect for Jamie’s distaste for boats.</p><p>“Where is the auld coot now?”</p><p>“I’m sure he’s resting. It was...uh...an eventful trip. He didn’t get much sleep, and I’m afraid it’s all my fault.”</p><p>Jamie looked warily at my face. “What happened?”</p><p>I moved up to a sitting position against the mass of pillows behind us. Jamie sat up, too, his body tense and coiled as he prepared for ominous news.</p><p>“Well...the good news is that I probably saved a good number of lives…” my voice faded off.</p><p>“And the bad?”</p><p>“Um…I identified smallpox in a crew member of one of the merchant ships in Le Havre. The ship and all its inventory were burned at sea. The owner was not very pleased with me.”</p><p>Jamie ran his fingers through his hair and knotted his brow. “And who was the owner of said ship?”</p><p>“Le Comte St. Germain. Have you heard of him?”</p><p>“Hmphm,” he grunted a mix of exasperation, anxiety, and resignation all in one sound. “I shall assume he wasna best pleased.”</p><p>“No. He wasn’t. In fact, Murtagh and I were both quite concerned for our safety. We left in the middle of the night to put as much ground between us as possible. If Murtagh hadn’t been there...well, I shudder to think what might’ve happened.”</p><p>“Did he ken who ye were, Sassenach? Yer name, I mean.”</p><p>“Yes, the harbor master informed him of who I was.”</p><p>He rubbed his face in his hands again. “Weel, I suppose there’s little to be done about it now. Ye see, Le Comte is Jared’s greatest competitor. He and I havena been verra friendly since I took over managing the business.”</p><p>“And I’m responsible for his inventory burning on that boat…” I cringed.</p><p>“Aye. He will believe it intentional sabotage. He’s a paranoid bastard as it is. There are rumors he travels in dark circles and dabbles in black magic.”</p><p>“Oh dear. I’m sorry if I’ve made trouble for you.”</p><p>He pulled me back onto his chest, wrapping his arms tight around me and kissing my temple. “Dinna fash, mo ghraidh. I’ll deal wi’ Le Comte. He willna lay a finger on ma dame blanche.”</p><p>His white lady...his time-traveling witch is what he really meant. He chuckled quietly as he stroked my hair.</p><p>“How about you? You said you have much to tell me?”</p><p>“Oh aye. I met him...the Bonnie Prince.”</p><p>“You met Charles Stuart?”</p><p>“Aye, at Maison Elise. A brothel,” he added at my questioning look. “Our Catholic prince was bestowing his praise on the variety of tools one can purchase to enhance a gentleman’s experience wi’ a whore.”</p><p>“Tools? Whores? You met him at a brothel?”</p><p>“Aye.”</p><p>I sat up in irritation. “What were you doing at a brothel?”</p><p>He smiled sheepishly, “We’re in Paris, Sassenach. Where d’ye think wine merchants conduct most of their business?”</p><p>I dusted a piece of lint off my shoulder. “Perhaps it’s not me that smells different. Perhaps your nose is accustomed to other flavors of woman.”</p><p>He stroked a comforting hand down my spine. “Ye dinna believe that for a moment, mo chridhe. My seed was half spilled the moment I saw ye here waiting for me. That’s no’ the sign of a man who’s been pleasured by other lassies.”</p><p>He took hold of my chin and forced me to look at his doting face. He was smiling affectionately. “My Sassenach...tell me ye have faith in yer husband.”</p><p>His glittering blue eyes were impossible to resist. I leaned into him with a pout on my chin. He smiled and kissed me softly.</p><p>“Wait...what did you mean by ‘tools’?”</p><p>He snorted. “Cocks. Wooden ones mostly—polished, of course. But I did see some made of ivory, bone, and iron.”</p><p>“Oh! These tools struck a fancy in the prince?”</p><p>“Aye...but before ye ask, no, I didna inquire what he was doing wi’ em.”</p><p>“You talked to him, then?” I felt myself tense thinking of Jamie involved in such dangerous politics.</p><p>“Briefly. He was interested in what a Scot had to say on the way of things. I told him true; he didna have the support to win such a war, and I have no intention of leading my people to their destruction. But I gave him my best wishes for obtaining the throne for his father.”</p><p>“You weren’t tempted to join his cause?”</p><p>“Och, no. I have my land, my wife, my tenants. I wouldna risk it for the world.” He looked at me with worry in his eyes. “That’s what this wee excursion to Paris is all about, is it no’? We’re building the still to find a way to keep the family and tenants fed for the coming famine. Ye havena changed yer mind about our plan?”</p><p>“Of course not. I just wanted to be sure that romantic notions from the Bonnie Prince haven’t influenced you in your late night meetings at the brothel.”</p><p>“Hmphm. No. The prince is a foolish man and a blockheid to boot. If no’ for my faith in your knowledge of the future, Sassenach, I wouldna believe that numpty capable of leading an army.”</p><p>“Well, your assessment isn’t far off. He won’t be successful.”</p><p>“Aye. And that is why we’ll focus on the keeping of our family and our land.” He lay back against the pillows with a soft smile on his face.</p><p>“Our family,” I repeated. “I do love the sound of that.”</p><p>“Do ye now?” He lifted his eyebrows playfully. “Perhaps we can put in some work making one for ye.”</p><p>The grin on my face must’ve been foolishly broad if his chuckling response was any indication. I lay on top of his chest, propping my head on my hands to watch his expression. “Are you ready for a family, Jamie?”</p><p>He stroked my hair, and eyes glittered when he said, “Aye.” He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “Then again, if God should determine we’re no’ meant to have a wean of our own, I wouldna be overly troubled by the revelation. We’ll have nieces and nephews and tenants’ bairns a plenty to dote on.”</p><p>“And if God should give us a child?”</p><p>“Little in this world would give me greater joy.”</p><p>I buried my face in his chest and kissed the center of the steady beating of his heart. “You’ll make the most wonderful father.”</p><p>“I’ll do my best, Sassenach. Which means I’ll likely be taking yer lead,” he laughed.</p><p>“Can I ask you a question?”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>“Why do you want children so badly? I’m not complaining, by any means...just curious.”</p><p>“Why do I want bairns?!” He thought the question wildly amusing, as though the answer was a given.</p><p>“In my Time, more and more people are choosing not to have children at all. Why does the thought of having children give you so much joy?”</p><p>His face took on a thoughtful expression, though the humor never left his eyes. “Weel, I suppose I’ve a few reasons to take joy in the thought of having bairns. But mostly...”</p><p>I mindlessly traced the scruff of his jaw as he put his thoughts together. Finally, he said:</p><p>“<em>If I could write the beauty of your eyes</em><br/>
<em>And in fresh numbers number all your graces,</em><br/>
<em>The age to come would say, “This poet lies—</em><br/>
<em>Such heavenly touches ne'er touched earthly faces.</em></p><p>
  <em>So should my papers, yellowed with their age,</em><br/>
<em>Be scorned, like old men of less truth than tongue,</em><br/>
<em>And your true rights be termed a poet’s rage</em><br/>
<em>And stretchèd meter of an ántique song;</em>
</p><p><em>  But were some child of yours alive that time,</em><br/>
<em>  You should live twice: in it and in my rhyme.</em>”</p><p>“Oh, Jamie.” Tears sprang forth in my eyes.</p><p>“I want more of ye, mo nighean donn. I want every piece of ye I can have for my own. I want our souls merged in a legacy that will last forever...long after we’re gone.<em> ‘And nothing ‘gainst Time’s scythe can make defence, Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.’</em>”</p><p>I kissed him thoroughly, quite overcome.</p><p>“And how about ye, Claire? Why do ye want wee bairns of yer own?”</p><p>I closed my eyes and placed a hand on my belly. A wave of warmth and joy spread over me like being wrapped in Jamie’s tartan. “I suppose if I’m ever to love anyone even half as much as I love you, it would have to be our children, because no one else would ever have a chance.”</p><p>When I opened my eyes, Jamie's mouth was quirked up at the corner.</p><p>“What?” I asked. “Does that sound silly?”</p><p>“No, mo chridhe. Ye dinna sound silly, at all. It’s only...I was thinking how much I love the look on yer face just now...the pride of a mother. Perhaps I should redouble my efforts to put a wee one in yer belly so I can see that joy in yer eyes for all the rest of our days.”</p><p>“Well,” I laughed, “as much as I would enjoy said ‘efforts,’ I don’t actually believe they’re all that necessary.”</p><p>“Not necessary?” He seemed scandalized by the idea of our love-making not being a necessity. “I beg to differ.”</p><p>“It’s only...Well, you can’t just go putting another baby in there. I think we’ll have to wait for the first one to come out before adding more.”</p><p>“What?” He tilted his head and gave a confused smile. “What d’ye mean another bairn?”</p><p>His eyes widened as his head began catching up with his ears. I bit my lip in anticipation…</p><p>“Another? Meaning there’s one already in there?” His hand dropped to my still flat belly. “Are ye wi’ child, Claire?”</p><p>I nodded with a joyful grin. “About three months along, it seems.”</p><p>“Ha!” He lost his breath, and along with it, all his pretty words. “I’m to be a father? Ye’re having my bairn?”</p><p>I couldn’t help the laughter bubbling up straight from my heart. “I am. We’re having a baby.”</p><p>He pulled me in for a kiss, lips fumbling between giggles and smiles. He rolled us over so I lay on my back. His kisses trailed down my body until they came to rest on my belly.</p><p>His long hair curtained his face so I could barely see his delighted eyes as he whispered quiet Gaelic words to the baby. I stroked his hair out of the way to fully capture the moment. He kissed my abdomen before climbing up over me.</p><p>I took his face in my hands and asked, “Are you happy?”</p><p>His eyes sparkled a sapphire blue as he laughed, “Yes, I’m verra happy indeed, Sassenach.”</p><p>
  
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Deux</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Due to some strange glitch, my notes from chapter 1 were appearing on every chapter. </p><p>Until I figure out how to stop that, I’ll just put my chapter 1 notes here.  It’s just the 17th sonnet.</p><p>Shakespeare’s Sonnet 17</p><p>Who will believe my verse in time to come<br/>If it were filled with your most high deserts?<br/>Though yet heav'n knows it is but as a tomb<br/>Which hides your life and shows not half your parts.<br/>If I could write the beauty of your eyes<br/>And in fresh numbers number all your graces,<br/>The age to come would say, “This poet lies—<br/>Such heavenly touches ne'er touched earthly faces.”<br/>So should my papers, yellowed with their age,<br/>Be scorned, like old men of less truth than tongue,<br/>And your true rights be termed a poet’s rage<br/>And stretchèd meter of an ántique song;<br/>  But were some child of yours alive that time,<br/>  You should live twice: in it and in my rhyme.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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</p><p>For the first time in months, Jamie slept with the feeling of being whole. His missing piece was in his arms, and he was conscious of her presence even while asleep.</p><p>His dreams were full of Highland heather, cold streams, and naked bodies. Two naked bodies in particular. He and Claire made love on a bed of plaid with forget-me-not petals falling from the sky. Her belly was big and round, fitting perfectly in his hands.</p><p>He woke several times that night with an aching cockstand and her scent in his nose...her new scent. The wee bairn changed how she smelled. He didn’t think it possible to love her scent any more than he already did, but it hit him as powerfully as Jared’s finest bottle of Bordeaux.</p><p>He felt like a virgin in all his eagerness, though he no longer carried his virginal ignorance. His practiced body could now please his wife in ways he’d never imagined that first time they made love.</p><p>He woke just before the sun as he normally did. His tired wife didn’t stir as he softly kissed her cheek. He felt a bit guilty for wearing her out so thoroughly. She was growing his child, and he knew that would be taking a good deal out of her.</p><p>He rubbed his hand over her belly, hoping to feel some change of form. He knew it was early yet, but he wanted to find traces of his child. Claire said she could feel changes in her body, but Jamie surmised he would have to be patient and wait.</p><p>The thought of leaving his pregnant wife—whom he hadn’t seen in months—to go work at the warehouse was unimaginable. He hadn’t taken any time for himself since he arrived in Paris and didn’t feel the least bit guilty over his decision to stay home. He slipped out of bed, donning a shirt and trousers. He quietly made his way out of the room so as not to disturb Claire. In his study, he wrote a letter to his foremen informing him he wouldn’t be coming into work that day. He dropped it off with Suzette along with instructions to have breakfast brought to their room.</p><p>Returning to Claire, Jamie disrobed and crawled back into bed. His wife brought him a wave of satisfaction as she curled her body unconsciously around him. He wrapped her in his arms and inhaled her delicious new scent as his hands traced over her perfect form.</p><p>Jamie had seen a few dozen breasts in the past few months. A good number of them had been rubbed up against him as he conducted business at various brothels in the city. He’d been relentlessly teased and tormented by his customers about keeping his hands in his lap and his cock in his kilt. They just couldn’t understand his restraint.</p><p>He reached down and cupped his wife’s heavy breast in his hand, so full and firm. They’d gotten bigger in their months apart. They were soft and lovely, with the prettiest pink nipples he’d ever seen. The bastards slaggin’ him at the brothel didn’t seem to realize that for Jamie, there were no other breasts in the world but his wife’s. They were the only ones...they were perfect...and they were his.</p><p>He traced a finger around the rose-colored nipple, watching the skin tighten as it stood erect. He wanted to take it between his fingers and pinch it, to put his mouth around it and taste her flavor...</p><p>There was a quiet knock on the door, stopping his lust from getting out of hand. Suzette peeked in the room carrying the breakfast tray he’d requested. Jamie tended to Claire’s modesty by covering her body with the blanket as Suzette brought the tray to his nightstand.</p><p>He silently thanked her with a nod of his head and effectively dismissed her by turning back to his wife. He tracked the sound of Suzette’s quiet steps and the soft click of the door when she left.</p><p>Claire slept for some time longer, allowing Jamie to resume his languid appreciation of his wife’s physical presence. Every touch was a reaffirmation of the life they were building together.</p><p>She smiled contentedly before she opened her eyes. Her hands grazed over him, from shoulder to shoulder. Her leg hooked around his thigh, pulling her closer to his body. Two eyes, yellow as purest gold in Versailles, peered out at him. She watched him as her lips puckered and kissed their way up his chest.</p><p>She stopped abruptly and inhaled deep, eyes momentarily closing in euphoria, as she picked up on a scent. “Bread,” she said.</p><p>Jamie snorted, his body bouncing in good humor. “I’ve got a baguette for ye right here, woman.”</p><p>She sniffed the air theatrically and rose up to a seated position, “Fair warning, my lad, never get between a pregnant woman and carbohydrates.”</p><p>“What’s a carbohydrate?” he mumbled with his lips against her skin. He kissed his way up her neck and across her jaw.</p><p>“It’s akin to ambrosia for a gestating female of the human species.” She reached past him to the breakfast tray. She grabbed a piece of bread and brought it close. She inhaled once again and made an erotic moan of pleasure.</p><p>“God, I missed yer wee noises.” He shifted his cock around to ease the ache of fullness.</p><p>“You like the sounds of a growling stomach, do you?” she laughed.</p><p>“Oh, aye.” He took a bite of the piece of bread in her hand. “Almost as much as the sounds of digestion after ye consume the whole loaf.”</p><p>“You’re a daring man, Mister Fraser, coming for a pregnant woman’s first meal of the day.”</p><p>“Well, we’re married, are we no’? What’s yours is mine and all that.”</p><p>“Remember that when I steal your dessert tonight…” She stopped abruptly with a helpless look of foreboding in her eyes. Her hand moved to cover her mouth.</p><p>“Claire? Are ye alright?”</p><p>She shook her head and jumped out of bed faster than he’d ever seen her move before. She ran quickly to a table not far from the bed. She grabbed a vase and brought it to her mouth just as her body retched it’s contents inside.</p><p>He was at her side in moments, holding her hair and mumbling words of comfort. When the heaving finally stopped, he took the vase out of the room and called for someone to come clean it.</p><p>Claire was making wee noises once more, but these were of discomfort and pained frustration. Jamie pulled her into his lap on the bed and stroked the bare expanse of her back.</p><p>“My wean is giving ye a bit of sickness, aye?”</p><p>She groaned in affirmative.</p><p>He kissed her temple. “I wish I could bear it for ye, mo nighean donn. If I could but spare ye the slightest discomfort, I would.”</p><p>“It’s not so terrible.” She nuzzled into the crook of his neck. “Even if I could share the burdens of pregnancy with you, I don’t think I would.”</p><p>“No? Ye’re brave wee thing.”</p><p>“It’s not about being brave. It’s just that...well...I didn’t think I’d ever be able to carry a child of my own. I wouldn’t give away a moment of the experience.”</p><p>“Ye didna believe ye’d have a bairn of yer own? Even after I told ye what ye said to me at the abbey? Yer auld self, I mean.”</p><p>“If I remember correctly, my future self said our family would be ‘untraditional.’ I thought that might mean our children wouldn’t be our own...I mean...that they may not be ours biologically. I thought it meant we might adopt or something.”</p><p>“Hmphm. The thought did cross my mind,” he acknowledged. “What wi’ the war and famine coming, as ye say. Many children are likely to be orphaned.”</p><p>“Would you have been ok with that? Having children we didn’t make ourselves?”</p><p>“Oh aye. Ye ‘make’ children over a lifetime of raising them, Sassenach, no’ just by shooting seed in a womb.”</p><p>She pulled her head back and smiled at him.</p><p>“Ye’re feeling better, then?”</p><p>She nodded. “It seems to leave as quickly as it comes.”</p><p>“Do ye have any wee herbs or remedies to take for yer wame?”</p><p>“I used them all on the journey to Paris. I need to find an apothecary today.”</p><p>“I ken where we can find one. I’ll take ye when ye’re ready.”</p><p>“Good. I’d hate to spend the next few months plunging my head into expensive vases and hanging out of carriage doors. I want to make the most of these next two months.”</p><p>“Two months? What d’ye mean by two months?”</p><p>“Remember the letter I sent myself from the future? It said I should go on bedrest during my fifth month of pregnancy.”</p><p>“Aye. That means ye’ll no’ be able to get out of bed until ye have the wean?”</p><p>“Oh, I can walk around a little, but I can’t exert myself. Unfortunately, bedrest also means pelvic rest.” The poor thing looked devastated.</p><p>“No love-making, hm?”</p><p>“Precisely.”</p><p>He chuckled, “Dinna fash, Sassenach. We’ll make do.”</p><p>“Yes...that is, if this child gives its mother a break.” She rubbed her belly with affection despite the pout on her face.</p><p>Jamie bent and spoke to the little one. “Ye hear that, mo chuisle? Spare yer Ma a wee bit of suffering. She’s a good ’un, aye?” He rubbed her stomach softly. He thought it was likely in his head, but maybe he could feel a little curve in her belly that wasn’t there before.</p><p>“D’ye think it’s safe for ye to travel?” Jamie asked. “Should we return to Scotland, d’ye think? Or stay here in Paris to have the bairn?”</p><p>“I assumed we’d have it here. Don’t you have work to do? How much longer does Jared plan on being gone?”</p><p>“Weel, I heard word from him about a week after I sent my letter asking ye to come, Sassenach. Jared will be returning to Paris from the East, shortly...within days or a week, at most. He’ll be arriving wi’ a large shipment of spirits before departing again to Italy.”</p><p>“If he’s going to Italy, won’t he need you to run the business in his absence?”</p><p>“Aye, but ye and wean are more important than thirty percent of his profits, mo chridhe. If ye want to have the bairn at home, I’ll tell Jared I canna stay and have him find another to manage his business while he’s gone.”</p><p>She looked troubled at the thought of making such a decision.</p><p>“Dinna fash. We still have time. We’ll discuss wi’ Jared when he arrives.” He smiled in reassurance and kissed her softly. “For now, we’ll just focus on getting ye back to braw, Sassenach. Could ye stomach some food? Or d’ye need more rest? Shall I pop on over to the apothecary for ye?”</p><p>She grinned, “Don’t you have to work? You can’t stay here all day and be my servant.”</p><p>“Oh, but I can, mo ghraidh…” He pulled from his mind Shakespeare's 57th Sonnet:</p><p>“<em>Being your slave, what should I do but tend</em><br/>
<em>Upon the hours and times of your desire?</em><br/>
<em>I have no precious time at all to spend,</em><br/>
<em>Nor services to do, till you require…</em>”</p><p>Her delighted laughter was naught but the most glorious music to his ears.</p><p>________________</p><p>Claire opted to rest a little longer. When she finally rose up, Jamie wouldn’t allow her to leave the house without being able to hold down at least a little food and drink. Though she scoffed at his hovering, he could tell she was pleased with his attentions.</p><p>He watched with delight as Suzette readied her for their outing in a fashionable dress of the finest silk. It was one thing to watch a woman take off her clothes, but something else entirely to watch her put them on, knowing just what each layer held beneath the last.</p><p>Luxurious clothing was a necessity while he worked for Jared, even if it wasn’t something on which he’d normally cared to waste his coin...but Claire’s body was meant to be decorated. It gave him no little pride to see the indulgent life he was able to provide for his family.</p><p>When he first met Claire, she was covered in blood and all manner of muck and filth for nigh on a week. It was during that time that he vowed to himself to give her a life where she would only get filthy if she chose to do it...and if she did, he’d be getting filthy right along with her.</p><p>When her hat was pinned on her head and her dress was so wide he could hardly put an arm about her waist, he summoned the carriage for a ride to the apothecary. He’d heard rumors of Maître Raymond and his little shop. The man was said to be a magician and his store full of all the herbs and concoctions any witch could possibly desire...a place his wife would fit in well.</p><p>Never did he imagine the bliss of riding through Paris streets with his beautiful wife at his side. Nor his pride as he stepped out of the carriage and turned back to help her down to the street where he would show her off as his for the first time.</p><p>Running footsteps sounded to his right just as Claire’s feet touched the cobblestone ground. Jamie turned in time to catch a young boy of about ten years old in his arms, preventing the wee bastard from plowing into Claire.</p><p>“Slow down, laddie. Ye nearly knocked into my lady!”</p><p>“Pardonnez-moi, monsieur.” The boy stepped back and gave a great, formal bow. He was slight of frame, his hair and eyes shared the same shade of dark brown, and his skin was nearly as pale as Claire’s.</p><p>As soon as he was out of reach, the boy bolted away as quickly as he could. With the boy out of sight, he held out a hand to Claire. She was smirking after the place where the wee man disappeared with the affectionate eye of a mother-to-be doting on a bairn.</p><p>Lord help them if they have a son as wild as all that.</p><p>
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</p><p>Jamie led Claire into the apothecary. Few windows in the building made it dark and dank. The smoke of fragrant incense hung in the air. Accustomed to the filthier scent of tobacco that rose in heavy clouds at brothels, the incense were a refreshing change of olfactory stimulation. He was reminded of Sunday mass at Leoch in his youth.</p><p>Claire sighed dreamily as she looked around the room. Plants overflowed from their pots everywhere they turned, and jars and containers filled shelves that covered all four walls. A small man at the counter with the look of a frog about him greeted them at their arrival. He gave a polite nod and introduction to Jamie, but his eyes were alight on Claire. It was easy to see by her glass expression that she was the one in her element.</p><p>“What may I help you with, Madonna?”</p><p>“I came to refill my stores of herbs and medicines. I brought a list of what I need,” she said, fishing out a piece of parchment from her purse. The two birds of a feather began twittering away about their wee herbs and concoctions.</p><p>
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</p><p>Jamie wandered around the shop as Claire chattered on with the man who called himself Maître Raymond. Jamie wanted to see what potions and trinkets a “magician” might sell to make his money. Careful not to break anything, he peered in glass jars and ceramic pots. He found any number of strange things, including the dust of ground frog bones, crocodile blood, bitter casca…</p><p>“Bitter cascara,” said a woman’s voice just over his shoulder. He jumped at the sound, not hearing her come upon him. He stoppered the vial and replaced it on the shelf.</p><p>“It gives stomach cramps and induces vomiting,” she said. “Though, it’s nothing your lovely wife seems to require at the moment. I’m sure the little one she carries is giving her enough trouble as it is.”</p><p>Jamie turned to face the stranger. The woman had fine, French bones and the jet-black hair of a gypsy pinned tightly back and capped with lace.</p><p>“How did ye ken she’s wi’ child?”</p><p>“Aside from the glow of gestation?” The woman laughed.</p><p>Jamie looked fondly at Claire as she inhaled something pungent from a small vial before handing it back to Maître Raymond. She certainly had a glow about her, but he thought he might be the only one who would notice. He turned back to the stranger with a raised eyebrow.</p><p>She conceded, “Her hand caresses her belly more often than not, and she’s buying Maître Raymond out of all his stores of ginger root, peppermint, and lemon...for nausea.”</p><p>“Oh, aye,” he laughed.</p><p>“Congratulations on the child. Your wife is a healer, I see?”</p><p>“Indeed, she is; a fine one at that. And you? Are ye a healer, as well? Or perhaps a witch?” he chuckled.</p><p>“That depends on who you ask.”</p><p>Jamie heard Claire’s footsteps coming up behind him. He turned to the side, inviting her into their conversation. “Did ye find all yer wee herbs, Sassenach?”</p><p>“I did, and a few more.” She inclined her head to gypsy woman. She spoke in with her sassenach French that was noticeably not native in comparison to those around her. “Hello, my name is Claire...Claire Fraser.”</p><p>“Bonjour Madame. Your husband tells me you are a fine healer.”</p><p>Claire smiled briefly up at Jamie. “I do my best.”</p><p>“I, too, practice the art of healing. Perhaps you might be interested in sharing your skills with the unfortunate masses at L'Hôpital des Anges. I volunteer there most days. Mother Hildegaard could most certainly use all help she can get.”</p><p>“Oh, well I hadn’t thought of doing anything like that.” She looked up at Jamie.</p><p>He did his best to keep his face impassive. He didn’t like the idea of his wife and unborn child wandering around that part of the city, immersed elbows deep in pestilence and pox.  Jared's warehouse was not far from the location, and he knew the place to be filled with dangerous people.</p><p>Claire placed a hand on her belly, “I’m afraid I’d only be able to help for a short time.”</p><p>“Ah yes. I hear congratulations are in order. I should think any help you could give us in the meantime would be appreciated, if only to share your knowledge of medicines.”</p><p>Claire looked at Jamie with excitement in her eyes. He tried not to grumble his frustration. He loved to see her happy.</p><p>“I’ll have to discuss it with my husband. We’re still not sure how long we’ll be in Paris.”</p><p>“Of course. Come to L'Hôpital anytime you like. When you arrive, ask for La Esmeralda. I work with the expectant mothers.”</p><p>Jamie bowed his goodbye and led Claire out the door. He could feel her buzzing with excitement at the prospect of working at the hospital.</p><p>“A hospital, Jamie!” she said when the doors closed behind them.</p><p>“Aye. I heard.”</p><p>“If we decide to stay, it’ll give me something productive to do while you’re at work. At least until I go on bedrest.”</p><p>“I should think growing a bairn is quite productive enough on its own, Sassenach.”</p><p>“All that makes me do is vomit and sleep all day. I’d like to be of some use to people.”</p><p>“Hmphm. Let’s talk more when we figure out where we’re having the bairn, aye?” He’d have to find a way to keep her occupied in the meantime. Returning to Scotland was seeming all the more appealing.</p><p> </p><p>________________</p><p>
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</p><p>Several days later, Jamie looked across the parlor at his wife in deep conversation with Lousie de Rohan and the young Mary Hawkins. The gold in Claire’s dress brought out the whisky in her eyes. Her graceful movement was like liquid swirling in an elegant crystal glass. Jamie was eager for their guests to depart so he could drink her up in the privacy of their bed.</p><p>He had no one to blame but himself for this dinner. Shortly after their excursion to the apothecary, he insisted on planning an evening at the house for several acquaintances and business associates. He did so in hopes that Claire might develop suitable feminine companionship and find enough distraction to keep her from L'Hôpital.</p><p>Even as he regretted having to share what could have been an intimate evening alone between him and Claire, he was quite satisfied that his plan might have led to some degree of success. She seemed to be enjoying herself with her new friends.</p><p>“Monsieur Fraser,” said Jules de Rohan, pulling Jamie’s attention away from Claire. “I am surprised I have not seen you attach yourself to the Stuart cause along with your cousin, Jared. Most Scots in France seem to wear the Jacobite label with ferocious pride.”</p><p>“You forget, I’ve met the Bonnie Prince myself,” Jamie chuckled. “I dinna intend to wager my family and livelihood on his prowess in the art of warfare. I dinna think I’d wager a bad meal on the man, much less my entire future.”</p><p>Jules laughed heartily. “I can’t say that I blame you. I’ve heard he’s a damned fool with his head stuck in the clouds.”</p><p>“Aye, he is that. But despite his foolishness, I’d ever be pleased to see a Stuart King reclaim the throne. A lame horse would be a damned sight better than King Geordie. But I willna be the man to lose everything in a vain attempt remove him.”</p><p>Claire’s laughter sounded like soft chimes floating on the wind from across the room. He couldn’t tell if it was her laugh or Jared’s best whisky that spread warmth deep in his wame. No, he wouldn’t risk her safety for all of Scotland...the Stuart Prince could go hang.</p><p>Jamie did have another question for his friend. “Have ye heard anything else about Le Comte St. Germain?”</p><p>“Yes, I have. The poor bastard’s getting desperate. That shipment your wife destroyed carried the last of his hopes to save his business. If he can’t find a loan to replenish his stock, he’ll likely lose everything. He’s none too pleased with her, my friend. Nor with you. Be careful of the man. He travels in dangerous circles and has a ruthless reputation.”</p><p>“Aye. I ken that much.” Jamie would have to set Murtagh as a guard on the woman if they stayed in Paris much longer. He looked at his godfather sitting alone on a chair, drinking whisky and grumbling to himself about being forced to socialize.</p><p>“Seigneur Fraser!” Louise called out, pulling Claire and Mary with her to where Jamie and her husband were in conversation. “You must convince your wife to allow us to secure you both an invitation to Versailles. She is fretting that you will be too busy to attend, and she insists she cannot go without you.”</p><p>Claire’s mouth was set in an exasperated line. She was making it quite clear what she thought of going to the palace when they were uncertain of how much time they would have left in Paris. But turning down such an offer from Louise de Rohan would be considered an insult...not to mention, preparations for a visit to Versailles would likely keep Claire occupied for several days, at the very least, and stall any visits to L'Hôpital. Jamie didn’t hesitate in accepting. “I assure you, Madame, we are delighted at the honor of the invitation and would be pleased to attend as your guests.”</p><p>Claire raised a frustrated eyebrow in his direction. He attempted to give her a conciliatory wink. Though she was by no means appeased, she couldn’t help her smile at his inability to close one eye at a time.</p><p>The discussion was tabled by unspoken consent until the last of their guests had said goodbye and the carriages were gone from sight. When Jamie came back to the parlor, Claire was standing there with her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed. He tried to keep himself outwardly calm, but his hand wouldn’t stop tapping on his leg as he sized her up.</p><p>“I know what you’re doing, James Fraser.” Her voice was cool and sharp.</p><p>Murtagh rose from his chair, drained his glass, and shook his head as he walked grumbling out of the room. <em>Smart man.</em> Jamie was tempted to do the same.</p><p>“What is it ye think I’m doing, then?” he played dumb.</p><p>“I’ll not allow you to keep filling my days with all these frivolous gatherings so I don’t have time to make it out to the hospital.”</p><p>“It would’ve been rude to turn down the invitation to the palace. ’Tis an honor bestowed by yer new friend, and ye canna be insulting my custo...”</p><p>“Jamie!” she interrupted.</p><p>He sighed deeply. “Mo ghraidh…”</p><p>She cut off his use of the endearment with a look.</p><p>“Fine. Claire. Ye ken from the letter ye wrote to yerself from the future that ye shouldna be straining yer body while yer wi’ child. Ye should be in bed, no' working at a hospital.”</p><p>“It said I should start bedrest at <em>five</em> months, not <em>three</em>. And if memory serves me right, you haven’t been so keen on me starting bedrest when you’re waking me in the middle of the night to shove your cock inside me!”</p><p>“Aye, weel, we were in <em>bed</em>, were we no’?”</p><p>“Pelvic rest means no sex!” she stomped her foot. “You can’t pretend to be concerned about the baby when it comes to my career, but not when it comes to your cock.”</p><p>“Making love to yer husband is no’ the same as swimming in a disease-laden charity hospital. Have ye no thought to what ye’ll expose the child to in that place?”</p><p>“Esmeralda works with expecting mothers, not sick people.”</p><p>“Be that as it may, I willna have ye going down there, woman. I need ye here where I ken it’s safe!”</p><p>When she cocked her head and put her hands on her hips, Jamie knew she was angry. But when her face turned bright red and her lower eyelids lifted to narrow her gaze like an angry cat, he knew she was about to get furious.</p><p>He tried to calm her before she lost hold altogether and started shouting and throwing things. “Now, dinna get so riled up, Sassenach. ’Tis no’ good for the wean.”</p><p>“Oh,” she said dramatically. “Not only am I to be locked away in this Parisian tower to be at your beck and call, but I’m also not allowed to feel any particular way about my confinement unless you give me your approval?”</p><p>“That’s no’ what I meant, ye ken that well enough.”</p><p>“For a man who speaks so many languages, you seem to have a difficult time expressing exactly what’s going on in that thick skull of yours.”</p><p>“Hold up, now. Yer insults are getting a wee bit personal.”</p><p>“Forbidding me to leave the house, save to go to palace parties and dinners with your friends, <em>is</em> ‘personal’!”</p><p>“Ye headstrong woman!” he slammed his fist down on a table. “Ye ken ye’ve angered a verra dangerous man! St. Germain has it out for ye, and ye’re telling me ye want to go down to a disease-infested hospital, carrying my bairn, and risking yer life while my hands are tied up at the warehouse!”</p><p>“Your hands are tied up at the brothel, more like!”</p><p>“I told ye, woman, I havena laid a hand on a whore!”</p><p>Claire turned on her heel and made for the stairs, her golden dress swishing like a matador’s cape. He supposed that made him the bull.</p><p>“I should’ve stayed at Lallybroch!” her voice echoed in the hall. “At least there I could see patients without you locking me up in the broch for my ‘protection’!”</p><p>“Claire!” He followed after her. His heart always sank when she walked away from him; perhaps it was lingering fears of when they first met and she insisted on leaving him to return to her time.</p><p>“Go to hell, you bastard!” She threw open the door to their room.</p><p>He blocked the door when she tried to slam it in his face. She gave up as it became increasingly obvious that her arms were no match for his. She stomped away to the other side of the room.</p><p>Claire pulled haphazardly at the laces of her beautiful dress. “I told you long before I agreed to stay in this godforsaken century that I wouldn’t allow you to tell me what to do!” She was working the laces into a Gordian knot with all her agitated fumbling. “I make my own choices! I <em>will</em> have a career that gives me purpose and meaning! And I <em>will</em> do what’s best for this baby and this family. If you don’t like it, you can shove it up your Scottish arse!”</p><p>God, she was beautiful when all fired up. The heat of her rage could be felt from three feet away. He could hardly be mad when he wanted her so bad. “I ken that, mo ghraidh.”</p><p>She threw up her hands in exasperation. “Where’s Suzette?! I can’t get this stupid thing off.”</p><p>“Hiding, I expect. ’Tis what well-trained servants do when the Lord and Lady of the house are raging at each other like fools.”</p><p>“Well, Mrs. Crook could learn a thing or two from the French and their discretion.”</p><p>Jamie chuckled, trying nervously to align himself with his wife once again. “Aye, the auld beesom canna keep her neb out of anyone’s business.”</p><p>Claire looked like she wanted to smile, but forced herself to remain angry.</p><p>“Can I help wi’ yer laces, lass?” He waited anxiously. He was ready for their fight to be over. He just wanted that damnable woman in his arms and under his body.</p><p>When she didn’t answer, he took a tentative step forward, wary of any flying vases or ornaments that might be hurled in his direction. She resisted violence and just stood a little straighter, allowing him to come behind and release the knot she imposed on the fine material. After the dress fell to the ground, he helped remove her corset, though she wouldn’t let him near her shift.</p><p>“You can’t keep me locked up just to take me out at your disposal, Jamie,” she said softly. “That’s not the kind of woman I am.”</p><p>This hadn’t been such a problem for them at Lallybroch...at least not since their first journey together from the stones. There wasn’t much he’d ever consider forbidding her to do. She was the Lady of the land and the healer of his people. She had duties that must be attended to.</p><p>The difference was there were no threats to the Laird’s wife on his own land, but in this sinful city, he feared dangers were lurking around every corner.</p><p>“I ken that, mo ghraidh. And I ken I promised I would learn to be the man ye need...’Tis only…” he rubbed his hands through his hair in frustration. “’Tis only that ye carry my whole world in yer body, my Sassenach. Ye and the bairn are my life. I couldna forgive myself—or you—if something should happen to ye.”</p><p>“Nothing is going to happen to me, Jamie. I told you, I won’t be attending to the contagious patients at the hospital, and Murtagh can ensure my safety whenever you’re not there to do so yourself.”</p><p>Jamie stepped into his wife’s space, his hands resting on her small-framed shoulders and rubbing down her arms. “I dinna suppose ye’d listen if I forbid ye to go, would ye?”</p><p>She smiled up at him and shook her head. “I don’t suppose I would.”</p><p>He nodded in defeat. “Fine. But promise me, Sassenach, if any threats should arise to yer safety or that of the bairn, ye’ll return home at once.”</p><p>“I promise.” She reached up on her toes and kissed him. “And this will only be for a short time. Before you know it, I’ll be stuck here in bed for months on end, begging for attention to pass the time until our little one decides to come out and join us.”</p><p>“So, I suppose that settles it, then? We’ll be staying in Paris until after ye have the bairn? When Jared arrives, we’ll let him know we’re staying while he goes to Italy?”</p><p>“I think it’s best we stay, not just for the money or for my pleasure, but the letter I sent myself from the future made it sound like this will be a high-risk pregnancy. I think it best I go to the hospital and meet the doctors and midwives in case we need special care or attention.”</p><p>He embraced her with a heavy sigh, “I hadna thought of such a thing, lass. Perhaps ’tis no’ such madness after all to be sending ye out there.”</p><p>“Mmm. The sound of a husband admitting he was wrong...it’s a beautiful thing.”</p><p>He chuckled into her hair. “Aye, I’m sure ye’ll have no lack of opportunity to do so in the future.”</p><p>She turned her head up and looked at him soft and expecting. He gave her a gentle kiss on her lips, testing the water to see if she’d let him in her bed. Her mouth was warm and pliant against his...always a good sign. Better still was when her hands pulled at his belt and at the buttons of his vest.</p><p>Thank God! he thought to himself as he helped her peel off his clothes. The only benefit to fighting with the woman was the making up.</p><p>When they were both naked, he lay down and pulled her on top of him. He let her ride him...let her set the pace. He lay there, kissing her, groping her, completely at her mercy.</p><p>And that’s exactly where he’d always intended to be...</p><p>
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</p><p>________________</p><p>The next morning, Jamie was prepared with a basin when Claire woke up vomiting before she had a chance to eat breakfast. He stroked her back and held her hair so the splatter wouldn’t reach her curls. He had Suzette bring her some ginger-lemon tea and a plate of carbohydrates for her to consume to her heart’s content as soon as her stomach was settled.</p><p>When she finished, she pushed the tray aside and lay back on the pillow with her hands on her very full and very confused belly. A contented smile played across her lips.</p><p>“Are ye all done then, Sassenach?” he asked.</p><p>“Mmhm,” she said lazily.</p><p>“Shall I call Suzette to come in and help ye dress?”</p><p>“I suppose so. I should go out and find a dressmaker for our visit to Versailles.”</p><p>“Ye can deal wi’ that later. I have some time this morning to take ye to L'Hôpital to meet yer gypsy friend. We’ll just need to make a quick stop at the warehouse first thing. I’ve word Jared arrived this morning wi’ his shipment. We’ll meet him briefly, then I’ll take ye straight over.”</p><p>“Jamie!” her eyes lit with the joy of pure sunshine. She leaned toward him and kissed him thoroughly, “You’d do that for me?”</p><p>“I’d lay the world at yer feet, mo ghraidh.”</p><p>He forced himself to pull away from her kisses so they could get a start on their day. Suzette hurriedly readied Claire for their excursion, and they were on their way within a half hour. He pulled Claire into his side as the carriage drove off through the city.</p><p>Jamie stared out the window, watching all the people and buildings fly by. Paris was a different city altogether with the one he loved by his side.</p><p>“Do you miss Scotland?” Claire asked, as if she could read his mind.</p><p>“Aye, but none so much as I did before ye arrived. You are my home, Sassenach, wherever it is we may be.”</p><p>Her whisky eyes softened and she sighed with fervent longing. He could see how much his words meant to her. He could see she felt the same. She chose to stay with him rather than return to her life two hundred years hence...she knew as well as him that home was wherever their lips would meet.</p><p>He kissed her deeply, forgetting the people and the city that passed by. He was shaken out of his love-addled trance when the carriage finally slowed to a stop. He pulled his lips away and looked out the window to see what awaited them.</p><p>They’d arrived at Jared’s warehouse located not far from L'Hôpital. Jared was out front gesturing with authority to one of his employees. His cousin, the poor bastard, looked exhausted and weary from all his travels. Jamie didn’t envy the man’s upcoming trip to Italy, even though it would make him a pretty penny.</p><p>“Jamie, look!” Claire drew his attention away from his cousin and pointed out the window. “Isn’t that the little boy from the apothecary?”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Oh, aye,” he smirked. The wee lad was moving quick, much like the other day. Watching from a distance, Jamie could see by the grace in the boy’s step, he was far more in control of his body than he appeared when he nearly barreled into Claire.</p><p>As the quick-footed boy neared closer to Jared, he picked up his pace and stumbled purposefully into his cousin. As Jared helped the lad steady himself, Jamie saw the flash of a pale hand reach into Jared’s pocket and come out with his purse.</p><p>“Did he just…?” Claire asked.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Aye, the wee thievin’ gomerel.” Realizing what the boy must’ve done to him the other day, Jamie reached into his sporran and felt around. His purse was still there, but something else was missing. “<em>Sawny</em>. Shite.”</p><p>Jamie bounded out of the carriage and ran after the boy. The little thief was quick and darted through crowds of people with ease. Jamie’s thoughts were on naught but his brother Willie and the only thing Jamie had left of him in the hands of the wretched wee lad.</p><p>As Jamie rounded the corner of the warehouse, he ran headlong into a large man in a black cloak. The man was thrown against the wall, but Jamie didn’t have time to stop and see if he was alright; he once again lost sight of the boy.</p><p>Knowing further pursuit of the thief was hopeless<span>—</span>the bairn obviously knew Paris as well as Jamie knew the Highlands<span>—</span>he returned to the man he knocked down to offer his apologies. However, the man was as long gone as the wee laddie and hand-carved snake, Sawny.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The next few chapters will be quite LONG - probably close to 10k words (no, I will not split them up).  I'm hoping to update at least once a week.  I have some verra special things planned and am taking particular care of how I present everything.</p><p> </p><p>Shakespeare's 57th Sonnet</p><p>Being your slave, what should I do but tend<br/>Upon the hours and times of your desire?<br/>I have no precious time at all to spend,<br/>Nor services to do, till you require.<br/>Nor dare I chide the world without end hour<br/>Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you,<br/>Nor think the bitterness of absence sour<br/>When you have bid your servant once adieu.<br/>Nor dare I question with my jealous thought<br/>Where you may be, or your affairs suppose,<br/>But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought<br/>Save, where you are, how happy you make those.<br/>  So true a fool is love that in your will,<br/>  Though you do anything, he thinks no ill.</p><p> </p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Trois</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry this update took so long!  I had a few renovations going on at the house that consumed all my attention over the last couple weeks. I should be updating more regularly now.</p>
<p>This chapter is a wee bit of a wish fulfillment chapter from season 2 for me.  I hope you enjoy.</p>
<p>I think you'll see that pace and tone will start to shift a bit come chapter 5...I'm reeaallly looking forward to getting there soon.</p>
<p>Also, I got a little picture happy this chapter...I couldn't help myself, distraction be damned.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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<p>“You’ve delivered a baby before?” asked the formidable nun, Mother Hildegarde.</p>
<p>“I delivered my niece last Spring...and a few since.”</p>
<p>“All by yourself?”</p>
<p>“The mothers did most of the work, I’d say.”</p>
<p>“Hmm.” She wasn’t too keen on my humor just yet.</p>
<p>We were observing Esmeralda prepare to deliver a baby. The mother was a sixteen year old girl whose family had abandoned her. Childbirth scared me half to death under the best of circumstances. I couldn’t imagine doing this without love, support, or security...without Jamie.</p>
<p>Esmeralda talked the young lady through another contraction with her beautifully hypnotic voice. It was a good thing the girl had such a kind and gifted midwife; the poor thing was likely to be in labor for quite some time by the looks of things.</p>
<p>“She's quite competent for such a young healer, isn’t she?” I said.</p>
<p>Mother Hildegarde smiled in a manner that was meant to remind me of my own youth. “Despite her age, she is our most competent midwife.” Hildegarde eyed me appraisingly, “She tells me you have knowledge of medicines and remedies.”</p>
<p>“I suppose I do, yes.” Though I’d come to the eighteenth century with a good deal of education, I’d learned quite a bit more by studying the journal my future self bestowed upon me.</p>
<p>“Perhaps we could use your expertise…”</p>
<p>Hildegarde led me to a bed on the other side of the ward. There was a woman lying fevered and shaking on a small cot. She had dark circles under her eyes and her cheekbones had a sunken-in look about them. Her gaze was glazed over in a manner that suggested whatever light entered her pupils no longer resembled the object it represented.</p>
<p>She was most certainly in advanced stages of blood poisoning.</p>
<p>“Do you happen to know a remedy that would help with an infection that has spread through the whole body?” asked Hildegarde.</p>
<p>“I do know of one, in fact. However, I don’t have the tools I need to cultivate it at present.” I’d left my microscope and needles at Lallybroch. It didn’t even occur to me that I’d have occasion to brew penicillin while I was gone. I wondered if I could find another microscope and fashion a needle somehow? Perhaps, I could spend my time on bed rest looking for penicillium. Either way, it was too late for this young woman.</p>
<p>“Even if I did have everything I needed, there wouldn’t be enough time to make it. I don’t think there is anything to be done for her.”</p>
<p>“There is always something to be done...even if it is only prayer. I will take turns with Esmeralda tonight, sitting with her and easing her passing.”</p>
<p>“How did she get the infection?”</p>
<p>“The fever followed shortly after childbirth.”</p>
<p>Chorioamnionitis. An intrauterine infection. Such an easy thing to cure in the twentieth century. Potentially deadly in the eighteenth.</p>
<p>“And the baby?”</p>
<p>“One of the other mothers is feeding him at present. He will likely be sent to an orphanage if we cannot secure him a home, otherwise.”</p>
<p>I put a hand over my own womb...to think of this little one growing up without its family. I resisted the impulse to step in and do something rash. As a nurse, I learned very early on in my career that I couldn’t personally save everyone, no matter my feelings of injustice for their hardship, otherwise I’d have been married at least seven times to dying men in the war, and I would have adopted four children on my first visit to the maternity ward.</p>
<p>“I’ll sit and pray with her,” I said, pulling up a chair beside the woman. “I’m sure you’ll need your rest if you’re to be with her throughout the night.”</p>
<p>Mother Hildegarde thanked me and retreated to her office. I took hold of the dying woman’s feverish hand. It was clammy, frail, and obviously not long for this life.</p>
<p>The only prayer I could think of at the moment was the prayer of the Blessed Mother herself. I quietly muttered the Ave Maria, first in English, then in French so she, too, would understand. The dying woman didn’t even notice I was there.</p>
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<p>Louise’s screech was echoed through the large room by her pet monkey. The wild, little animal, Colette, was caged up because of her propensity to bite anyone who wasn’t her owner. By those standards, the way Louise was slapping her servant every time the man pulled a strip of wax off her legs, she should be caged up herself.</p>
<p>Mary and I watched as Louise lay with her legs immodestly—yet somehow still elegantly—spread. A layer of wax was applied to her upper thigh, and then Louise and her monkey gave another simultaneous screech as it was ripped off yet again.</p>
<p>“Madame Fraser,” said the dressmaker, drawing my attention back to the task at hand. She showed me a sketch of what she came up with for our visit to Versailles. “How do you like the neckline now?”</p>
<p>“It’s a little more revealing than I’d normally be comfortable with, but we’re in Paris, after all.” I’d be showing a significant amount of cleavage, which pregnancy had made all the more substantial.</p>
<p>“And the color? Do you like it in blue?”</p>
<p>“It’s lovely.”</p>
<p>“Bring it here,” Louise told the dressmaker. “Let me ensure my English friend will have a dress suitable enough to display her glorious form at the palace.”</p>
<p>The dressmaker scurried over and showed her the sketch of the dress. Louise peered at the parchment and raised a disappointed brow. “Mon ami, you do not want to wear this to the palace.”</p>
<p>“Whyever not?”</p>
<p>“Because the walls will be more alluring than you.”</p>
<p>“I’m attempting to be elegant. I don’t need to be alluring. I’m a married woman and three months pregnant. Who should I be trying to allure?”</p>
<p>Louise giggled in her very French manner. “Since you are not one to take a lover, then your husband, of course.”</p>
<p>“My husband finds me quite alluring enough. He doesn’t need me to wear crimson red with a neckline that drops to my navel to find me attractive.”</p>
<p>“Ohhh!” Louise waved the parchment at the dressmaker. “Crimson red and drop the neckline to her navel!”</p>
<p>I snatched the parchment from Louise and said, “That’s really unnecessary.”</p>
<p>“Are you sure about that?” The tone of Louise’s voice held more in it than the words she shared.</p>
<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
<p>“Has your husband, by chance, told you of a young woman named Annalise de Marillac?”</p>
<p>I trusted Jamie implicitly, but that didn’t stop the sinking feeling in my gut that my husband forgot to mention someone significant in his life.</p>
<p>“Hmm,” Louise nearly sang.</p>
<p>“Who is...Annalise de Marillac?” asked Mary in her tentative, halting voice.</p>
<p>Louise straightened her shoulders to tell her bit of gossip, not caring that her left nipple was visible through the gap in her robe. “She is quite anxious to see your husband again. She told me so herself when I informed her we invited you to Versailles.”</p>
<p>“See him <em>again</em>?” I’d be lying if I said my feathers weren’t ruffled.</p>
<p>“Oui. Apparently, they knew each other when he was at University. He dueled the man who would become her husband for her hand.”</p>
<p>I raised my eyebrow in doubt, “And Jamie lost?” Jamie never loses.</p>
<p>“No. He wounded his opponent, and Annalise, worried for the man, ran to his side and pledged her undying love to him. She said Monsieur Fraser was quite heartbroken at the loss. It seems, perhaps, she has been regretting her youthful, impulsive decision.”</p>
<p>“Be that as it may,” I attempted to recover my pride, “I’m sure Jamie is long past being at risk to her charms. We are married, after all. And so is this Annalise, as you said.”</p>
<p>“Her husband died of the pox years ago. And you are in Paris where it is de rigueur for noblemen to take lovers.”</p>
<p>“Well, Jamie is not a Parisian nobleman.” Even as I reassured myself, I couldn’t help but look over the dress and imagine it in red...and with a slightly lower neckline. “Even so, I suppose it couldn’t hurt to have my husband find me all the more alluring.”</p>
<p>Louise giggled in triumph, “You are a wise and practical woman.”</p>
<p>I handed the sketches back to the dressmaker. “Not to the navel. Perhaps the third rib.”</p>
<p>“Oui, madame.”</p>
<p>Louise gave a hum of appreciation as she inspected her legs. “Mary, come get your legs done. You have more hair than Colette.” The monkey gave a screech of confirmation.</p>
<p>Mary whimpered in fear, curling in on herself.</p>
<p>“Silly, child,” said Louise. “For the right man you would be eager to endure the sting of the wax.”</p>
<p>Knowing Mary was betrothed to a warty, old French aristocrat, I couldn’t blame her for having no interest in making herself any more appealing to the man. However, coming from the twentieth century, I did miss the feel of smooth legs and underarms. I wondered what Jamie would think of it...</p>
<p>“Now for the worst part.” Louise lay back and spread her legs. I couldn’t help but stare with wide eyes and an open mouth. The short, light scattering of hair between her legs told me she waxed often.</p>
<p>She laughed at the scandalized looks on our English faces. I marveled at the ease in which she displayed her body...her tender, pink flesh visible for all the room to see.</p>
<p>When the first strip was ripped off, the monkey and Louise screeched yet again, and the groomer withstood his most vicious assault yet.</p>
<p>“I can’t divine any man worth doing something like that,” whispered Mary.</p>
<p>My heart broke for her. The poor thing would probably never know real love, and if she did, it would have to be kept secret until her husband died.</p>
<p>I thought of Jamie. A hot wax was the least of the pain I’d be willing to endure for him, though I wasn’t sure if he’d even like it. If I did anything of the sort, it would have to be something I did for me.</p>
<p>I took an unconscious step closer before I realized I was gawking. I looked away abashedly.</p>
<p>Louise laughed, “Come look. I can see you are tempted to try it for yourself.”</p>
<p>I almost said, “If you don’t mind,” but clearly, she didn’t. I inspected her skin...red, tender, and swelling. There was a lone little droplet of blood forming. Surely, it couldn’t hurt so terribly if such minimal damage was done to the tissue.</p>
<p>“Imagine your husband’s lips on your soft skin,” she said, running a finger over herself. “Imagine the softness of his tongue…”</p>
<p>Before I realized what she was doing, she took my hand and pulled it down to feel the smooth expanse of freshly waxed skin. It was warm to the touch and deliciously soft. Yes, I could very easily imagine Jamie kissing me there with nothing in his way.</p>
<p>I blushed a deep red, but steeled my spine. “Do you happen to have a spare robe?”</p>
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<p>With no hair on my body below my neck, the thin fabric of my shift glided over my skin like a soft Highland breeze. Jamie watched from the bed as I combed the tangles out of my hair.</p>
<p>His glittering eyes were soft in a way reserved only for when we were alone. They were telling me how much he loved me...how much he wanted me..how he planned to be tender. He would savor me tonight. He would take his time.</p>
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<p>To want and be wanted with such affectionate intensity, even in the most domestic of times, was more than most people experienced in a lifetime—poor Mary Hawkins...and that poor sixteen year old mother. I’d never regretted choosing this extraordinary life with Jamie...not for a moment...certainly not in moments like this.</p>
<p>I slid in bed next to him with my soft legs rubbing against each other as smooth as satin. I couldn’t wait for him to touch me, to feel his rough hands on my pampered skin.</p>
<p>“Ye’ve a mischievous look in yer eyes, Sassenach,” he smiled indulgently.</p>
<p>“Do I?”</p>
<p>“Ye’re planning something, are ye no’?”</p>
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<p>I shrugged in feigned nonchalance as I propped myself up on one arm facing him.</p>
<p>“It’ll be a surprise, then?” he asked.</p>
<p>“A pleasant one, I hope.” I caressed his cheek. He was freshly shaved and nearly as smooth as the lower half of my body.</p>
<p>“My beautiful wife is smiling and happy in my bed; there is much unpleasantness I would endure to see you this way, mo nighean donn.” I watched his lips as he spoke, imagining what was to come. “All the better if the surprise is enjoyable.”</p>
<p>Unable to resist those lips any longer, I leaned forward and pressed my own against them. He hummed a delicious encouragement. I held his smooth face in my hands, feeling the workings of his mouth from both inside and out.</p>
<p>His arms wrapped around me and pulled me against him. I was the one humming now, surrounded by his body and the jarring force of his love. His hands caressed my curves, paying due tribute to each and every one. As much as I relished the attention, his touch through my thin shift was driving me mad, and my patience was all but gone.</p>
<p>“Jamie,” I moaned eagerly.</p>
<p>He smiled against my mouth at the sound of his name on my lips. I hooked a leg around his thigh in an effort to increase his level of urgency to catch up to mine.</p>
<p>His mouth stilled, and his hands froze on my bottom. “Sassenach?”</p>
<p>“Hmm?” I tried teasing his lips back to kissing.</p>
<p>“What have ye done to yerself?”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?” Then, I remembered. “Oh, right. The surprise.”</p>
<p>“Hmphm.” Jamie slid his hand down my arse and to the leg that was wrapped around his thigh. He caressed the smooth skin, exploring the shocking change to the legs he knew so well. “Ye’re completely bare!”</p>
<p>“Louise had her personal groomer over today. In my time, it’s not uncommon for women to engage in a bit of depilation. I feel quite rejuvenated.”</p>
<p>“Depilation? On yer legs?” His face and tone were scandalized, but his hand was still moving greedily up and down said limb.</p>
<p>“And a few other places,” I grinned.</p>
<p>His brow furrowed, and he spoke with a stern and wary tone, “What other places?”</p>
<p>“Why don’t you find out?”</p>
<p>He seemed afraid to take me up on my offer. His hand trembled as it moved up my thigh. “There are only so many places ye have hair growing on yer body, lass...I dinna think it will take much exploration...”</p>
<p>His words cut off as his hand reached between my legs. A shuddering breath escaped his lips as his fingers stroked back and forth with a featherlight caress.</p>
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<p>“Your honeypot is bare!” His fingers kept on. “Why in heaven’s name would ye rid yerself of such a lovely forest?”</p>
<p>“I thought you’d be intrigued. I certainly am.”</p>
<p>His eyes met mine, dark sapphires in the moonlight. His voice was low and raspy when he asked, “And what is it ye find so intriguing, my Sassenach?”</p>
<p>“The way it feels when you touch me,” I whimpered, rubbing my thumb over his bottom lip still moist from my mouth.</p>
<p>His fingers slipped between my folds and slid through the tender flesh. I squirmed under the fondling of his curious hand. Whether due to the pregnancy or the waxing, my sensitivity was acutely heightened.</p>
<p>“What must it look like?” he said, breathless.</p>
<p>“Why don’t you see for yourself?”</p>
<p>“Aye.” He pulled back the blanket and lifted my shift. His fingers moved my labia around, inspecting from all angles. “Ye’ve deforested yerself to uncover the most bonnie flower, mo ghraidh.” He touched the tip of my clitoris, the lightest graze radiating so much need. “Like the petals of a pink calla lily.”</p>
<p>He bent down, tracing his lips over my soft skin, stealing the breath from my lungs. “Ye’re a daring woman. I suppose that makes me a verra lucky man.”</p>
<p>He kissed me slow, his lips emitting soft sounds as they traveled from one side to the other...his hot, wet tongue licking as his mouth touched down. I felt him fully, nothing standing in the way of his tongue. He was slow and deliberate, savoring every kiss as I melted beneath him.</p>
<p>“What a glorious pot of honey ye have, mo chridhe.” He whispered, the breath of his words grazing over my wet skin. He licked deep, tongue reaching inside. He licked again...and again. “Full of a rich and glorious nectar.”</p>
<p>He pulled my labia into his mouth, then ran his tongue up the length of it. He rained kisses on my clitoris as his hands gripped my bottom to hold me still. I squirmed and moaned under his endless adoration.</p>
<p>Silky strands of auburn hair tickled my thighs. My hands entangled with his gorgeous locks while my hips rolled against his mouth. I was slick and needy for climax, but dreaded the moment this would come to an end. Jamie sucked on my clitoris, making me twitch and writhe beneath him. His grip on my bottom and his muffled grunts told me how much he loved what he was doing to me.</p>
<p>It was a quick fluttering of his tongue that set me off. He held me firmly in place as pleasure cascaded from his mouth and into my body. He didn’t stop, even when he knew it was too much.</p>
<p>“Jamie,” I pleaded. “I want you in me.” I wanted his weight on top of me. When this baby grew bigger, he would no longer be able to lay heavy on me. I wanted to feel the solidity of him while I had the chance.</p>
<p>Perhaps unable to deny me, or unable to resist his own needs any longer, he kissed his way up from one set of lips to another. The taste of my pleasure lay heavy on his tongue. His mouth was no less insistent than before as he licked in deep in mine.</p>
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<p>Our lips parted only long enough to remove our nightclothes. Our naked bodies pressed against each other, one soft and one firm, both eager and warm. He glided inside me. His hard, rough body created beautiful friction on my soft, sensitive skin.</p>
<p>“I want to see,” he said, getting up on his knees. He wrapped my legs around him and looked down as he pulled out and rolled his hips back in. His masculinity was highlighted from this angle—sharp lines and sheer size—making me feel all the more slight and lithe even as my body was expanding with his child.</p>
<p>His large, rough hand traced over my smooth skin, massaging with the slickness of my arousal as his cock pushed inside ; the pleasure of it almost unbearable, making me squirm beneath his touch. I arched up in search of more, and knowing my body so well, my husband gave me exactly what I needed. I climaxed again under his skilled fingers, his cock never stopping its unabating drive, filling me full and leaving me empty over and over.</p>
<p>Seeing me reach blissful satisfaction, his hands gripped my hips and he redoubled his effort. His cheeks were flushed red with exertion and beads of sweat dripped down his temples. His face was knotted in concentration on achieving his single-minded goal of orgasm. In my pleasurable haze of lingering climax, I watched as he stalled his hips and bellowed an exaltation of both myself and the Son of God in the same breath.</p>
<p>His body heaved deep breaths, demanding oxygen to fuel his spent muscles that were hardly keeping him upright. A glimmering layer of moisture covered his skin. He was staring at me with an almost pained admiration.</p>
<p>“Jamie,” I said breathless, reaching for him.</p>
<p>He bent over me, cradling my face like a delicate flower. His blue eyes didn’t close as he brought his lips to mine.</p>
<p>“How is it,” he whispered, “that the needs of my body should be so fulfilled, but my heart’s demands are ever insatiable? ’Tis never enough, Claire.” He kissed me again. “I’ll never have enough of ye.”</p>
<p>“Then come have more,” our lips met again, “and never stop.”</p>
<p>_______________</p>
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<p>I traced the swell of his lips with a gentle finger. Mine were just as tender and swollen. Still, we couldn’t keep our lips apart save for sparing conversation.</p>
<p>“Can I ask ye a question, Sassenach?”</p>
<p>“Of course.”</p>
<p>“Have ye ever done such a thing before?”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
<p>“Ye ken what I mean.” His hand reached down and stroked my bare skin.</p>
<p>“Oh. Well, not that exactly. It’s common for women to shave their legs and underarms in the 1940s, but I’d never removed the hair from...there.”</p>
<p>“Not even when you went to Paris before?”</p>
<p>I laughed without humor. “The last time I was in Paris was at the end of a World War. I wasn’t overly concerned about such things at the time.”</p>
<p>“Has it changed much?”</p>
<p>“In some ways...very much. In others...not at all.”</p>
<p>“Such as all things, I suppose.”</p>
<p>Growing sleepy, Jamie wrapped an arm around me, pulling my back into his chest, spooning me from behind. One of his hands traced over my belly, caressing his child and the womb it called home.</p>
<p>“Have you thought of any names?” I asked.</p>
<p>“Aye,” a smile could be heard in his tone. “A few. What d’ye think of Alasdair?”</p>
<p>“Alasdair?” I scrunched up my nose at the idea of calling my little one such a substantial name.</p>
<p>“It means ‘defender of man’,” he said.</p>
<p>“Hmm. I should hope he would want to defend women, too?”</p>
<p>“Hmphm,” he grunted in concession. “D’ye have a better name in mind?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know...how about Leonard?”</p>
<p>“Leonard? But it’s so...English.”</p>
<p>I laughed, “You married a Sassenach.”</p>
<p>“Aye, but ye're a Scot now, mo chridhe. Best get rid of such notions of having a ‘Leonard’ running around the Highlands.”</p>
<p>“Since he’ll be born in France, perhaps we should name him Pierre?”</p>
<p>“Hmphm.” He needn’t say more.</p>
<p>“You know...this child could very well be a girl.”</p>
<p>His hand stilled a moment before stroking my belly once more, his touch somehow even softer. “That she would have eyes as golden as her mother. I’d give a thousand sunsets to see it.”</p>
<p>“I did not choose this life with you just so you could offer up our time together for a pair of yellow irises on our child.  Blue eyes would be just as lovely. Look at Jenny.”</p>
<p>“Aye. As deep and rich as the ocean...though far less nauseating.” Jamie yawned from deep in his belly.</p>
<p>“Get some rest, my love. You’ll be up early for work, I’m sure.”</p>
<p>“Aye. And what about you? Are ye going to the hospital again tomorrow?”</p>
<p>I looked at the clock in the room, hardly visible in the pale light. “I am. I’d like to help as much as I can before I go on bed rest. They’re so short-handed, even if there is little I can do.”</p>
<p>“You? Do little? Never a chance.”</p>
<p>“I sat with a dying woman the other day. I could’ve cured her if I thought to bring my supplies to cultivate penicillin.”</p>
<p>“And what if all was lost in your travels? No, mo nighean donn, ye made the right choice to leave it be at Lallybroch. If ye werena from the future, the woman would’ve died anyway, would she no’?”</p>
<p>“Yes, she would. Though Mother Hildegarde suggested I not rule out the power of prayer.”</p>
<p>“Hmphm, smart woman. Would ye like for me to say a prayer for the lass’s soul before we sleep?”</p>
<p>I looked over my shoulder at my sweet Scot, “You would do that?”</p>
<p>“Of course. I should hope someone would do the same for me when I leave this world...” he stopped short and chuckled. “Well...I suppose ye tried. You and the priests at the abbey spent time praying over my soul.”</p>
<p>It was still a shock anytime he talked about my future self visiting him on his deathbed to save his life at the end of mine.</p>
<p>“And we ken well enough yer own soul will be prayed for a millions times over,” he whispered. I often heard him praying for the spirit of his calman geal.</p>
<p>I turned in his arms not liking talk of our deaths. I held his face in my hands...firm, solid, and very much alive. I kissed him to feel how alive he was.</p>
<p>“Dinna fash, Claire. We have the rest of our great, long lives together.”</p>
<p>“If we’re careful,” I warned.</p>
<p>“And we will be. I wouldna risk ye for the world.”</p>
<p>And he kissed me until I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. Before I lost consciousness entirely, I heard the whispers of a Gaelic prayer in my ear.</p>
<p>_________________</p>
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<p>Nothing could make a woman’s anticipation of her first experience of childbirth more terrifying than watching another give birth...unless that woman was the one facilitating the birth and getting a front row seat to the vaginal destruction. I had a firm hold of the baby’s slippery head as I eyed the perineal tear that made me clench my own pelvic floor muscles in sympathy.</p>
<p>“One more push should do it. The shoulders are almost out.”</p>
<p>On the next contraction, I counted for the woman as best as I could while trying not to drop the slick and squirmy baby. And just that easy, after hours of labor, the baby slid right out into my hands.</p>
<p>“It’s a little girl!” I crooned, handing the baby off to Esmeralda who was supervising my first delivery at the hospital. Everything from that moment on seemed to play out at double speed—the delivery of the afterbirth, the assessment of both baby and mother, and the clean up.</p>
<p>When all was settled, I sat next to the woman and watched as her little one attempted to latch onto her mother’s breast for the first time. A euphoric wave of relief overtook me watching such a fundamentally natural interaction between mother and child.</p>
<p>I couldn’t wait to feel my own little one feeding at my breast.</p>
<p>I was startled when a hand came to rest on my shoulder, interrupting my viewing of what I hoped would be my future. Mother Hildegarde stood just behind me and nodded her head for me to follow. “I have something to show you.”</p>
<p>When out of earshot of mother and baby, Hildegarde acknowledged, “You did very well for your first delivery in our hospital.”</p>
<p>“Thank you. We were all very lucky it was a straightforward delivery. You know how unpredictable these things can be.”</p>
<p>“Just so.”</p>
<p>I realized she was leading me in the direction of the cot of the woman I sat with several days ago who was dying of an infection. Reluctant to face the death of the woman, I dragged my feet to prolong the inevitable. But as we came closer, I heard the distinct sound of a newborn crying to be fed and the cooing of a mother eager to do so. We stopped several cots away to watch the mother happily nursing her child.</p>
<p>The woman was barely recognizable as the near corpse I sat praying with several nights before, but it was most certainly her. She had the same long, dark, curly hair that reminded me of my own, though she had a bath since our last meeting, so it was more voluminous than I remembered. Her green eyes lost their haze and were shining as brightly as the colors of the stained glass windows that surrounded us.</p>
<p>The only thought that came to my mind as I watched her feeding her child was, “It’s a miracle.”</p>
<p>“Indeed, it is.”</p>
<p>“How?”</p>
<p>Hildegarde smiled, “Never underestimate the power of faith and prayer.”</p>
<p> </p>
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<p>“Vous êtes si belle, madame!” said Suzette as she fluffed my dress in the mirror. With my petticoats making my hips look several feet wider than they actually were, I didn’t think the dress needed anymore fluffing.</p>
<p>She wasn’t wrong about the dress though. It was very...alluring. I turned side to side to look at the racy neckline from all different angles. I even bent forward to see how far Jamie would be able to see down the front.</p>
<p>Suzette giggled as she retrieved my coat and helped me slip in on. I couldn’t help my enjoyment that a very absent Jamie wouldn’t see the cut of my dress until we reached Versailles.</p>
<p>“Where is Seigneur Fraser?” I asked. He was usually quite interested in watching me dress and undress, especially for an occasion such as this.</p>
<p>“I saw him run out of the house about an hour ago, madame. He was chasing and cursing at a young boy who was walking by.”</p>
<p>“An hour ago?! We need to leave in fifteen minutes.”</p>
<p>“Dinna Fash, Sassenach. I’m here.” Jamie came in the room with a manservant behind him. He kissed me hello and started to undress quickly. Suzette scurried out of the room to give him his privacy changing.</p>
<p>“And where did you run off to?” I said.</p>
<p>Jamie grabbed a wet cloth and began wiping his bare body. I couldn’t hide my appreciation for the sight, even if I tried. He smirked knowingly when his eyes met mine.</p>
<p>“I was at my desk looking out the window when I saw that wee thief passing by—ye ken, the scrawny beast that stole Sawny right from out of my sporran?”</p>
<p>“I remember.”</p>
<p>“Weel, I tried chasing him down, but the wee gomerel got the better of me yet again. I’ll tell ye, Sassenach, it does nothing pleasant to a man’s pride to be bested three times by yon heathen.”</p>
<p>“He probably sold it for a bite of bread by now. It doesn’t seem as though he has anyone watching over him.”</p>
<p>“Hmphm. Ye’re probably right.”</p>
<p>Jamie began dressing in his finest clothes. Never had I imagined my rugged Highland Laird wearing such fashionable French silks. As his servant buttoned his coat, Jamie’s eyes wandered over my dress. He raised an eyebrow and said, “That is quite some shade of red, Sassenach.”</p>
<p>I smirked back...<em>just wait until he saw what was under the coat</em>. “Do you like it?”</p>
<p>“Hmphm. I do, and I’m sure all the other men at court will like it, as well.” His tone was sharp and disapproving, but his eyes were hooded as they roamed up and down my body.</p>
<p>“Mon Seigneur,” said Jamie’s attendant, motioning for him to lift his chin.</p>
<p>“Mes excuses.” He complied, but as his face turned up, his eyes remained watchful on me.</p>
<p>________________</p>
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<p>This wasn’t my first trip to Versailles.  The last time I was here in the 1940’s, there was no way my mind could’ve fathomed being a guest of the aristocracy in the decades prior to the revolution, but there I was, standing in a castle glistening with blatant disrespect for the impoverished masses.  In that moment, I yearned to return back to Scotland.  </p>
<p>“Your coat, Sassenach,” Jamie said from behind me.  His hands waited on my shoulders as I loosed the buttons and shrugged it off.  He handed the coat to an awaiting attendant.</p>
<p>My eyes were drawn to the golden statues and baroque artwork surrounding me everywhere I turned.  The ceilings were magnificent no matter what century I saw them in.</p>
<p>A firm hand on my arm brought my attention back to Jamie.  It was astounding that a man of Jamie’s impressive stature—with flaming, red hair and a Fraser kilt under his fine, silk coat—could fit in so perfectly at Court, even as he stood out amongst the people surrounding him.  I was so enthralled in admiring his fine appearance that I hadn’t even noticed the expression on his face as he took in my dress.</p>
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<p>“Are ye mad, woman?  I can see right down to yer bare honeypot!” he whispered forcefully.  “Ye may as well be walking around in nothing but yer pearl necklace.”</p>
<p>“It may get a bit drafty if I did such a thing.”</p>
<p>“Drafty?”  He exhaled sharply, causing quite a gust of air to blow down my abdomen, highlighting the truth of his earlier statement.  “Yer nipples could detect a whisper from across the room in that dress!”</p>
<p>I grinned coquettishly, rubbing my hands up and down his silk-covered chest.  “I can think of a few places I’d rather your lips be this evening than whispering at me from across the room.”</p>
<p>His mouth dropped open, and his tongue darted out to moisten said lips.  He did his best to gather himself and used his body to block me from view of the other guests.  Murtagh, Louise, Jules, and Mary stood just on the other side of him, pretending not to notice our marital squabble.  </p>
<p>“Claire.  I willna have my wife’s breasts paraded around the French Court like one of King Louis’s roasted peacocks!”</p>
<p>“Then I’ll keep my parading down to a minimum.  Besides,” I looked around, “I’d say I’m dressed quite modestly in comparison to some of the ladies at court, as I’m sure you noticed.  At least I took care to cover my nipples.” </p>
<p>“I dinna want these bastards lusting after my wife the way they do those other women.”  His finger traced over the bare expanse of pale skin across my bosom.  “Ye’re a rare beauty for the likes of this court, mo nighean donn.  I dinna want anyone to...”</p>
<p>“Mon petit sauvage!” said a youthful, feminine voice just before a blonde mass of skirts barreled into Jamie, arms wrapping around him, hands touching everywhere his skin was exposed.</p>
<p>Jamie pulled back from the squealing bundle of skirts and smiled, “Annalise!”</p>
<p>She hugged him giddily once again.  Our friends were all observing the overt display of affection with varying degrees of shocked dismay and amusement.  Jamie pulled back, his eyes finding mine immediately.  His ears were such a profuse shade of red that they all but disappeared into his hair.</p>
<p>“Claire...allow me to introduce an old friend...Annalise de Marillac.  Annalise, this is my wife...Claire Fraser.”</p>
<p>The young woman did, at least, hide her disappointment at seeing Jamie’s wife in the flesh, but I could tell by her deflation of countenance as her eyes looked over my appearance that she was not best pleased by what she observed.  Perhaps she was hoping Jamie’s newlywed bliss was overestimated and his wife resembled something closer to a Highland cow.  </p>
<p>“Charmed, I’m sure,” said Annalise.  “Let me congratulate you on having won such a strong and passionate man for a husband.  Tell me, did Jamie fight many duels to win your hand?”</p>
<p>I forced a smile that I was sure didn’t reach my eyes. “No, he didn’t.  In fact, Jamie didn’t have to manufacture an opportunity for violence to win me over.  He came to my rescue quite spontaneously, fighting off several overzealous soldiers to protect my honor.”</p>
<p>“You still have an appetite for the blades, then?”  Her hands lingered anywhere they might try to stimulate my husband's skin.</p>
<p>“Hmphm,” Jamie grunted noncommittally, pulling himself away and wrapping an arm around my side.  He looked down at me and flushed, seemingly at a loss for words.</p>
<p>I let him squirm.</p>
<p>“It was just the one duel,” he spoke like a child caught stealing cookies.</p>
<p>“Jamie,” said Annalise.  “You must come witness the dressing of the king!”</p>
<p>Jamie looked at me wearily.</p>
<p>“It is an honor,” said Louise, placing a hand on my arm.  A devilish smirk twitched across her face, and I thought I might’ve seen the smallest sign of a wink.</p>
<p>I shrugged and nodded my consent.  “Murtagh?  You’ll go with him?”</p>
<p>The old man grumbled some sort of reluctant acquiescence.  Annalise hooked an arm around Jamie and turned to lead him off to some unknown part of the palace.  </p>
<p>“Come with me,” said Louise,  a little louder than necessary.  She hooked her arm around mine much as Annalise had done to my husband.  “My friends are dying to meet you, Claire.  Did I ever tell you about Monsieur Andouille?”</p>
<p>“Andouille?  No, I don’t think so.  Is that his actual name…”</p>
<p>I was cut off by a large hand grasping my upper arm and pulling me back around.  I smacked face-first into Jamie’s solid chest.  His hands gripped me tight as he bent down and rumbled in my ear.  “Dinna be going near any alcoves wi’out me...no doubt some bastard frog would follow ye inside.  ’Tis death to pull a blade in the presence of the king, and I should hate to lose my heid defending yer honor over this rigging ye call a dress.”  He bent down and kissed me hard, then added, “And dinna be meeting wi’ anyone called Andouille…” </p>
<p>Annalise began pulling him away.  </p>
<p>“And put that wee fan yer holding to good use, aye?”  He pointed to my breast as though I should use it as a cover.</p>
<p>Jamie left with several backwards glances in my direction.  Louise giggled in unabashed amusement at Jamie’s anxiety.  “Well done, mon ami,” she said, as if I intentionally did anything to contribute to his distress.</p>
<p>She then went about fulfilling her promise to introduce me to a great number of people.  Most of them, I realized, were noblemen of the sort likely to take a paramour.  I presumed she was just enjoying antagonizing Jamie rather than having any genuine interest in foisting infidelity upon me.  Just as I was beginning to tire of meeting such people, she grabbed my arm and pointed across the ballroom.</p>
<p>“Oh, that little minx!  Look!” she said.  “Finding a lover before she says her vows.  And you were worried about her!” </p>
<p>I followed Louise’s gaze and saw Mary Hawkins talking to a gentle looking young man.  She was bowing her head and gazing up at him coyly through her lashes.  </p>
<p>“I doubt it’s as serious as all that,” I said.  “They’re only talking.”</p>
<p>In an attempt to divert Louise’s attention from poor Mary, I pointed to the first person I saw in the opposite direction  “Who’s that over there?  I don’t think you introduced me to him.”</p>
<p>“Monsieur Duvernay.  He’s a man of gross sensibilities,” she said, frowning. Then a giggling laugh bubbled up from her chest.  “I am sure he will light a raging fire of jealousy in your husband.  Come!”</p>
<p>After several minutes of fighting off Monsieur Duvernay’s champagne-fueled advances with my less than adequate fan, I was finally able to tear myself away.  Spotting a hallway with fewer people milling about than in the ballroom, I made my advance, breasts covered by my battered fan in case another suitor attempted further fondling of my bosom.  </p>
<p>I was desperate to find a place to sit down and take off my uncomfortable shoes made all the worse by my pregnant and swelling feet.</p>
<p>I was stopped abruptly by bumping into a tall, elegant man.  Unlike some of the other guests that evening, he wasn’t trying to grope me, so my blood pressure remained steady...until I saw his face.</p>
<p>“Le Comte St. Germain,” I said.  I was glad there was steel in my words, and my breathlessness didn’t affect their delivery.</p>
<p>“Madame Fraser.”  He didn’t bow or show any of the pleasantries of etiquette expected at court.  “Are you having a pleasant evening?”</p>
<p>“Pleasant enough.”</p>
<p>“Hmm.  You may want to be more careful in the palace...watch where you’re going...such places are often filled with dark characters and unforeseen treachery.  You would not want to run headlong into such a villain.”  His sinister smirk left chills running down my spine.</p>
<p>Not wanting to dignify his blatant threat with a response, I stepped around him as best I could in my massive dress and made my way to the hall.  The temperature dropped significantly the further away I moved from all the body heat being conducted in the ballroom.  I walked until there was no one else around and stepped into a small, empty alcove.  </p>
<p>Just as I was preparing to remove my shoes, I was interrupted by an eager male voice.  “There you are, ma chérie.”</p>
<p>I turned to find Monsieur Duvernay coming toward me with his hands outstretched as though he was about to make some sort of intoxicated grab.</p>
<p>“Excuse me!” I swatted at him with my fan.  “I’ll thank you to keep your hands to yourself.”</p>
<p>“Come now, my dear.  I know very well why you showed such a desire in obtaining an introduction to me…”</p>
<p>I swatted at the man’s groping hands once more with my fan.</p>
<p>“Sassenach?” Jamie’s voice echoed darkly in the alcove.</p>
<p>Monsieur Duvernay was lifted bodily by his collar, much like an overzealous puppy.  Jamie sneered at the man, then turned to me and said, “I thought I told ye not to come to the alcoves wi’out me?  Yet just as I come out of the king’s dressing, I find ye headed straight for them wi’ this rutting bastard hot on yer heels.”</p>
<p>I’d completely forgotten Jamie’s earlier warning about the alcoves, likely because of the Comte’s vague threats to my person so fresh in my mind.  Jamie’s face knotted in irritation at my silence.  He took Duvernay out of the alcove and around the corner where I couldn’t see them.  I heard pained cries and muffled grunts followed by the distinct sound of a body collapsing on the floor.  Jamie was back in the alcove with me a moment later.  </p>
<p>“Is he alright?” I asked.</p>
<p>“He’ll live,” he brushed off my concern.  “Now, what the devil do ye mean by no’ listening to me about coming to this part of the palace?  I told ye if I’m forced to pull my blade before the king, it’s death!”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry.  I had other things on my mind.”</p>
<p>“Things other than my heid being forcibly removed from my body?”</p>
<p>“Well...yes, as a matter of fact!”</p>
<p>“What could possibly be so important?”</p>
<p>I looked away in frustration.  I couldn’t tell him about the Comte’s threats just as he warned me of what pulling his blade in the presence of the king would mean.  “I’ll tell you when we get home.  I don’t want to talk about it here.”</p>
<p>“Ye dinna want to talk?  Since when have ye ever cared to keep yer mouth shut?”</p>
<p>I nearly slapped him.  “You can be a real bastard, you know.”</p>
<p>He puffed himself up to his full height and edged closer.  “A bastard?  I thought I was being quite the gentleman.  My wife has no’ but a few strips of silk covering her nipples, and I find her wandering off to the one place I told her no’ to go.  I’d say I’m handling myself much better than most men would in my position.”</p>
<p>“Well...most men are bastards.”</p>
<p>“Aye!  We are!”  He stepped closer, pressing my body against the wall with his hips.  “And here I find ye allowing them to grope all over what’s mine!”</p>
<p>“What’s yours?!” </p>
<p>“Aye.”  He grabbed my face in his hands and kissed me roughly.  “Yer <em> my </em>wife, mo nighean donn.  Did ye forget that?”</p>
<p>“I chose to stay in the bloody eighteenth century to be with <em>you</em>; it’s impossible to forget.”</p>
<p>“Aye, ye’re living in <em> my </em>time.  But ye dinna act like it.”  He traced a controlled finger across my chest.  I could feel him vibrating with restraint as he passed over the swell of my breast. As frustrated as I was with the man, I’d been aroused since before we left for the palace, and his touch was having no little affect on me. “Is this how women dress where ye come from?”</p>
<p>“Of course not.”</p>
<p>His fingers circled around as much of my breast as the dress would allow.  </p>
<p>“I dinna ken about that.  I remember what ye were wearing when ye came to me through the stones...naught but a wee shift and scraps of silk over yer breasts and quim.”</p>
<p>“I don’t remember you complaining much about it at the time.”</p>
<p>“We were alone in the Highlands, several days' ride away from the nearest house.  Ye could’ve been riding in naught but yer pearly white skin and I’d be the only one to witness.  But here, half of Paris is catching a glimpse of yer beauty they’ve no right to see.”  </p>
<p>He grabbed the bit of fabric that precariously covered my breast and yanked it down, freeing me from my restraint.  My breast gave a small bounce as it settled into place.  </p>
<p>Jamie growled and dropped his head to take it in his mouth.  He sucked deep, stimulating my nipple with a rough lick of his tongue.  I grabbed his head, pulling him tight against my chest.</p>
<p>His hand dipped under the fabric covering my other breast and squeezed as though trying to mirror the movement of his mouth.  He kneaded my flesh and squeezed my nipple.</p>
<p>I moaned at the intense connection of all my erogenous zones, stimulation of one setting fire to all the others.  I tried to rub my pelvis against him for friction, but with his head bent to my breasts, my hips couldn’t reach their target.</p>
<p>“Jamie!”</p>
<p>“Shhh, mo ghraidh, or we’ll soon have an audience.”</p>
<p>“I don’t care.  Just get inside me!”</p>
<p>“I ken ye dinna care,” he chuckled.  “That’s how we got here, is it no’?”</p>
<p>I pulled him back up to my face, eager to have my lips on him again.  I kissed him with my whole body, grateful the French style of petticoats didn’t interfere with anything directly in front of me.  </p>
<p>For a moment, it felt as though there were only the two of us in all the palace.  There were no kings, no aristocrats, no servants, and no Duvernays groaning in pain just down the hall.  There was just Jamie’s large body surrounding me as his hands lifted my skirt hand over hand until he reached my bare skin underneath.</p>
<p>“Bare honeypots and red dresses...I canna wait to get ye back home to Lallybroch and away from this French nonsense.”</p>
<p>“You don’t fool me, lad.”  I reached down and grabbed his cock through his kilt.  “You seem to be enjoying Paris just fine.”</p>
<p>“If ye think there was ever a time in Scotland I didna enjoy ye just as much, mo chridhe, ye’re sadly mistaken.”</p>
<p>With a great deal of awkward maneuvering of Highland wool and French silk, he bent down and lifted me against the wall, sheathing his cock in an impressively forceful stroke.  With the aid of his heavy chest keeping me upright, he proceeded to bang the lower half of our bodies together with enough erratic force to drive him swiftly and madly to climax.  As he emptied his seed into my already full womb, I rubbed myself against his body, greedy for the pleasure elicited by the friction.  He soon joined in my efforts, allowing me to follow shortly behind.</p>
<p>I inhaled the very masculine scent of him, and kissed down his salty jaw as I caught my breath.  The lightness created by orgasm slowly faded as Jamie began losing grip on my thighs, and my body slid down until my feet stood wobbling on the floor.</p>
<p>“Ye’ll be the death of me, woman,” he whispered.</p>
<p>“Perhaps,” I laughed, “But not yet.  There is no way I’m raising this child alone.  If you were to die on me, I’d have to bring one of these Frenchmen back with me to Lallybroch, and I don’t think any one of them could survive Jenny.”</p>
<p>“I’ve never been so grateful for that stubborn wee besom of a sister.”</p>
<p>Both far more relaxed with the release of tension, we smartened ourselves up, straightening our clothes and fruitlessly attempting to smooth the telling wrinkles in our silks.  Eventually, we gave up any attempts at looking as though we weren’t just wrestling King Louis’s baboon.</p>
<p>Before leaving the alcove, Jamie held my cheeks gently in his hands.  A look of the softest affection stole over his face as he bent down to kiss me.  </p>
<p>“Can we go home now?” he asked.  “I’ve had enough of Versailles.”</p>
<p>“Please, let’s do.  All I want is take off these damn heels and set fire to them in the courtyard so they never bring such misery on another person again.”</p>
<p>“Are they hurting ye, lass?”  He offered me his arm to lean on him as he led me into the hall.</p>
<p>“They’re beyond pain, at this point.  They’re completely numb.”</p>
<p>“Dhia.  I’ll find ye a drink and a place to rest yer feet while I have the carriage called around to take us home.”</p>
<p>We passed a sleeping Duvernay in the hall as we made our way back toward the ballroom.  Murtagh found us almost immediately, and Jamie sent him to call for the carriage.  He found me a place to rest before leaving to retrieve my coat.</p>
<p>Shortly after Jamie disappeared, a servant came by and offered a glass of wine.  Though I would’ve much preferred a cup of tea with a splash of whisky, I was in no position to decline anything that offered either sustenance or relaxation.  I drank deeply, hoping the alcohol would take effect rather quickly on my empty stomach.</p>
<p>Moments after my third swallow, I detected a strange aftertaste, uncommon in such fine wine.  The flavor was forgotten immediately when a stabbing pain tore through my abdomen forcing me to double over.  I fell off the chair, landing painfully on my knees.</p>
<p>“Oooh God!” I yelled.  <em> The baby!  </em>Terror for the fragility of the life growing inside me caused my heart to race and my vision to blur.  I could hear muffled echoes of women screaming and men calling for help.  </p>
<p>Over the echoes of fear, I heard a familiar voice and clung to the sound of it.  “Claire!  Claire!”</p>
<p>I felt Jamie’s presence surround me.  “The baby,” I moaned.</p>
<p>“Tell me what to do, Sassenach.”</p>
<p>“Take me to l'hôpital.  Mother Hildegarde...Esmeralda.”</p>
<p>“Aye.  Dinna fash, mo ghraidh.  I’ll see ye well.”</p>
<p>Jamie lifted me up in his arms, cradling me like a child.  He ran quickly to the doors.  Before I lost consciousness entirely, I saw a blurry vision of Le Comte St. Germain observing the unfolding events with a look of almost bored amusement and perhaps even a quiet flare of triumph in his eyes.</p>
<p>_________________</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>“There was an aftertaste?” asked Esmeralda.</p>
<p>“Yes…” It took me a moment to find the words in French with my brain so fatigued. “In retrospect, I’m certain it was bitter cascara, though I didn’t recognize it at the time. Everything happened so fast.”</p>
<p>“Then you were fortunate your attacker was ignorant of poisons and gave you something that would only cause mild discomfort and no lasting damage.”</p>
<p>“Fortunate?” I nearly laughed.</p>
<p>“Indeed.”</p>
<p>I was lying in my bed at home as Esmeralda finished her examination. Jamie was pacing back and forth at the foot of the bed waiting to hear confirmation that the baby and I would be fine.</p>
<p>In the carriage sometime after we left Versailles, I became alert and oriented enough to conclude my symptoms were likely related to my wine being heavily spiked with bitter cascara, rather than a deadly poison or spontaneous miscarriage.</p>
<p>I insisted I be brought home rather than taken to the hospital. Jamie conceded to my better judgment, trusting that I would not allow any harm to come to our child for the sake of my stubbornness. However, he sent Murtagh to retrieve a healer to check in on me.</p>
<p>“Claire and the bairn are both fine, then?” asked Jamie.</p>
<p>“Both mother and child are well.”</p>
<p>“But ye’re certain she was poisoned?”</p>
<p>“I believe someone attempted to poison her, yes. It would be a great risk to attempt to harm a guest right under King Louis’s nose for the sake of petty amusements. The culprit must have been mistaken about what they arranged to be put in her glass.”</p>
<p>My eyes met Jamie’s. He was even more concerned than I was.</p>
<p>“They willna make the same mistake again,” he said. “We must be more vigilant, Claire.”</p>
<p>I nodded in agreement. He was absolutely right. “When I think of what could’ve happened to the baby…”</p>
<p>“What could’ve happened to <em>you</em>, mo nighean donn.” Jamie moved to my bedside and grasped my hand tightly in both of his.</p>
<p>“Do you know who did this to you?” asked Esmeralda.</p>
<p>“I’m fairly certain I do, but there’s no way to prove it.”</p>
<p>Jamie’s eyes grew cold, “St. Germain?”</p>
<p>I nodded and filled him in on both the satisfied look the Comte gave me as we left the palace and the threat-laden speech he shared just before I left for the alcove.</p>
<p>“<em>Ifrinn!</em> If I find out it’s him...I swear to Christ, I’ll…” Jamie stopped short and looked at the midwife still present in the room.</p>
<p>Esmeralda was trying to pretend she didn’t hear his last few words, but the smile on her face made her efforts moot.</p>
<p>Jamie straightened himself up and asked, “Claire has much faith in yer capability, lass. Would ye be willing to come to the house and check in on her and the wean regularly? I think it would be wise to have a healer close at hand. We’d pay ye fair, of course.”</p>
<p>“Jamie, I’m not sure that’s necessary,” I said.</p>
<p>The look he gave me brooked no resistance.</p>
<p>“It would be my pleasure,” said Esmeralda. “We’ll set up a schedule when next you come to the hospital. But for now, take the time to rest and recuperate.”</p>
<p>Jamie sent Murtagh to escort Esmeralda back to the hospital.  When he returned to our room, he took up his mantle at my bedside. He absentmindedly grabbed one of my feet and began massaging.</p>
<p>My sigh of relief as he worked out the discomfort in my foot fell on deaf ears. His body was present with me, but his mind had gone somewhere else entirely. “Where is your head, soldier?”</p>
<p>“Hmphm? Oh...I was just thinking...I canna let St. Germain get away with harming my wife and child, failed attempt or no’. I must find some way to prove he was the one who tried to have ye poisoned.”</p>
<p>“How could you possibly prove such a thing?”</p>
<p>“I dinna ken...no’ yet. But I’ll come up wi’ something.” He shook himself out of his reverie and focused his attention back on me. “Dinna fash, Sassenach. I’ll see ye safe. That I promise.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks so much for taking the time to read this ridiculously long chapter and leaving me your thoughts.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Quatre</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Mark me,” said Charles Stuart. The Bonnie Prince was sitting at a table beside Jamie and Murtagh's at Maison Elise.</p><p>“Pardonnez-moi, Monsieur?” said the whore on Charles Stuart’s lap.</p><p>“I said, ‘Mark me’...just there on the neck. I’ve heard rumors my lover is having relations with her husband. I think it only prudent she sample the bitterness of jealousy when next we meet.”</p><p>Murtagh grumbled under his breath, “So says our Catholic Prince, eh?”</p><p>“Hmphm,” Jamie rolled his eyes.</p><p>Charles Stuart let out a high-pitched squeal of delight as the whore began sucking on his neck. The Prince didn’t even notice a small head of dark, curly hair passing behind him and snatching up his purse.</p><p>“Thoir sùil a-null an sin!” Jamie hit his godfather’s arm and pointed at the boy. “’Tis the wee gomerel that stole my snake.”</p><p>Murtagh chuckled, “Clever bastard, aye? No one’s the wiser of his antics.”</p><p>“Aye…” an idea began forming in Jamie’s mind. “Aye...Go around and stop him at the back door, will ye? Dinna let him get away.”</p><p>Murtagh smirked before he rose and did as asked.</p><p>Jamie turned his attention back to the little criminal. Not wanting to cause a scene, he waited for the boy to move closer to the back exit. The boy picked four more pockets before he was in a position where Jamie could corner him. If King Louis had half a brain, he’d employ the lad to be a tax collector.</p><p>Jamie meandered over nonchalantly, intending to drive the child toward the back of the brothel where Murtagh lay in wait. When the boy looked up and recognized Jamie, his eyes went wide and he tore off toward the back exit. Jamie followed slowly, confident in his godfather’s dependability.</p><p>When he made it to the back door, he heard muffled shouting coming from just outside. Murtagh had the boy restrained and his mouth covered. No one was lingering around that would pay any mind to such a spectacle.</p><p>
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</p><p>“There ye are, ye wee bastard,” said Jamie, grabbing the kid by the collar. “Where is my snake?”</p><p>“Go ask one of the whore’s to find it for you!”</p><p>“So it’ll be like that, then?” Jamie grabbed the boy by his ankles and upended him. Full purses, loose coin, and a dozen different odds and ends came rushing out of his pocket. He was significantly lighter by the time Jamie turned him upright and shoved him back into Murtagh’s grasp.</p><p>Jamie bent down to inspect his spoils. He spotted Sawny immediately, and relief flooded into his heart. He picked up the wooden snake and inspected it for damage. Satisfied with its condition, he turned to the lad and said, “I ought to thrash ye for this…”</p><p>The boy flinched, sizing up Jamie’s enormous hands.</p><p>“...but I’ll make ye an offer instead.”</p><p>The boy balked as he jumped to conclusions. “I’m not a whore, you swine!”</p><p>“I dinna want that!” Jamie spat.</p><p>“Then what do ye want from me?”</p><p>Murtagh gave a sinister chuckle. Jamie couldn’t help his self-satisfied grin at making this little menace suffer a bit for all the trouble he caused. Finally, Jamie said, “I want to offer ye a job.”</p><p>“Doing what?”</p><p>“Exactly what ye’ve been doing. But now ye’ll do yer thieving for me.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Why would I do that? I answer to no one!” said the boy.</p><p>Jamie took hold of the boy’s skinny little wrist. “Because one day, ye’ll lose a hand stealing from the wrong man. And I’ll pay ye well, no’ that ye deserve it wi’ the debt ye owe me.” The slight wrist in Jamie’s grasp told him much about how hard this poor child’s life had been; it gave him a sudden pang in his chest. “And we’ll keep ye well fed, aye?”</p><p>The boy thought it over. He raised a skeptical brow and asked, “And if I lose my hand stealing for you?”</p><p>“Then I’ll take responsibility for ye. I’ll keep ye on as a ward and make sure ye’re taken care of.”</p><p>“A life of leisure?”</p><p>“Hmphm. Something of the sort...Do we have a deal?”</p><p>The grinning boy took no time to think about it. “Oui. Now where is this food you promised?”</p><p>A grumbling Murtagh shoved the boy down the alley in the direction of the carriage. Jamie followed behind, still relieved at finding Sawny and pleased to be making progress toward the truth about Le Comte St. Germain.</p><p>A quiet noise sounded behind him from the door of Maison Elise. It was hardly audible over the wee laddie’s requests for ham with his supper. Jamie turned to glimpse movement in the shadows. There was a man in black who watched them walk away with the thief.</p><p>“Who’s there?” Jamie called.</p><p>The man turned and vanished back into the brothel. A part of Jamie thought he should follow him inside, but he somehow knew the man would be gone when he got there. This was the second time Jamie noticed the dark figure lingering around the boy. Perhaps the lad had more enemies than Jamie knew.</p><p>________________</p><p>
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</p><p>Jamie watched the boy stuff his face with bread, ham, and all manner of food that Suzette was all too willing to provide when he complimented her robust bosom. The bastard had already consumed Murtagh’s glass of whisky and was reaching for Jamie’s before Jamie realized and moved it out of his reach.</p><p>“Pace yerself, laddie. If ye canna learn how to hold yer liquor, then ye shouldna be indulging, aye?”</p><p>He shrugged, completely unaffected before stuffing his face yet again. Jamie wondered how many unknown quantities of wine and spirits the boy swiped off tables at Maison Elise over the years.</p><p>The sound of billowing robes had Jamie turning around to find Claire entering the room with her mouth agape. Jamie admired the sight of his wife half-dressed, striding in with her cheeks flush and her bottom swaying side to side.</p><p>She raised an eyebrow, “Why did you think it a good idea to bring a thief into our home?”</p><p>The thief in question stood up, bowing elegantly to the mistress of the house and mumbling incoherent words through a mouthful of cheese.</p><p>“Claire, this is Fergus. He’s going to help us gather information on Le Comte.”</p><p>“Fergus?” she said doubtfully.</p><p>“The whores at Maison Elise called him Claudel, but we agreed ’twas no’ verra manly.”</p><p>She crossed her arms and eyed the wee heathen dubiously. “And how will he be gathering information?”</p><p>“Och...stealing letters, of course. And listening in on conversations and the like.”</p><p>“Your very own little intelligence officer, hm?” Claire watched the boy drinking down more whisky.</p><p>“Ye little shite!” Jamie grabbed the empty glass he’d moved away only moments before. He turned back to Claire and shrugged, “The wee laddie has the fastest hands I’ve ever seen. And look…”</p><p>He pulled out Sawny, grinning.</p><p>“He still had it?”</p><p>“Aye.”</p><p>“And he’ll be staying here?”</p><p>Jamie nodded, “He’ll need a bit of smartening up, but he should do just fine.”</p><p>“How do you expect to keep him sober?”</p><p>“Sober?” Jamie turned to find Fergus with a bottle of whisky upended into his mouth. Jamie snagged the bottle out of the boy’s hands. “Christ! How many hands do ye have?”</p><p>Jamie turned to Murtagh,“Take him up to Suzette to find him a bed and a bath, will ye?”</p><p>“Aye.”</p><p>“And watch yer sporran.”</p><p>Fergus stood, shoving dinner rolls and slices of ham into his pockets. Murtagh pulled him away, but the boy forced him to stop by slipping out of his grasp. Fergus bowed in deference to Claire once more. He put his hands out in front of him in a cupping gesture and said, “You have a glorious backside, Milady. No doubt you will make Milord many strong, healthy babies.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Excuse me?” said Claire.</p><p>Jamie thumped his head, “Get on wi’ ye!”</p><p>“Milord likes it, too!” the boy said as he was pulled out the door. “I caught him staring at least three times since you walked in.”</p><p>Jamie turned to Claire, feeling a little sheepish. Her mouth was agape in dismay.</p><p>“Dinna mind him, Sassenach. He means well. He just needs to be taught proper manners.”</p><p>Claire shrugged and shook her head before walking out of the room. Her voice echoed from down the hall, “Hide the whisky if you know what’s good for you!”</p><p>__________________</p><p>
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</p><p>“Fergus!” Jamie shouted for the third time. Murtagh threw down his blade in frustration. Jamie and Murtagh had been giving Fergus a demonstration on how to defend himself, but the boy could hardly watch for more than a minute before getting himself into some kind of trouble.</p><p>Earlier in the day, Fergus witnessed Jamie spinning his dirk with the sharp point down on his palm; he was now diligently attempting to emulate the act with the sgian-dubh Jamie was letting him borrow.</p><p>“Pay attention, laddie!”</p><p>“I am paying attention!” Fergus said, spinning it again.</p><p>“No, ye’re not. Yer eyes are on yer wee blade.”</p><p>The boy shrugged and spun it again.</p><p>“Look, lad, I ken ye’d like a life of leisure, all the food ye can eat and none of the work, but I dinna think ye’d care much for eating wi’ one hand. I’m trying to help ye save yer limbs...and maybe even yer life.”</p><p>“I said I was paying attention.”</p><p>“Then come and show me.”</p><p>Excited for his chance to wield a blade, Fergus flipped it around with surprising dexterity and took a ready stance.</p><p>“Show me where ye should aim,” Jamie commanded. He bent into position and took a quick step at Fergus. The boy slipped around him and tapped him just under the ribcage with the hilt of his blade. If it were the sharp end, Jamie could’ve been seriously injured.</p><p>
  <em>God, he’s fast!</em>
</p><p>“Again, Milord?” Fergus asked, grinning.</p><p>“Aye,” Jamie took position. “Again.”</p><p>He charged at Fergus, blocking him from his ribcage, but the boy spun around and tapped him on the back...right behind the kidney. Fergus let out a “whoop” of excitement.</p><p>Murtagh chuckled quietly, “Gettin’ slow in yer auld age?”</p><p>“Again!” said Jamie.</p><p>For the next half hour, Fergus and Jamie practiced with the small blades. It took a few tries for Jamie to learn how to anticipate the squirly child’s movement, but once he figured it out, he was able to best the boy repeatedly. Of course, he could’ve out-muscled him from the beginning, but it was rare he found someone to rival him in speed, and he reveled in the challenge.</p><p>“Come, laddie. Let’s eat a bit before we practice some more.”</p><p>Suzette reminded Jamie of Mrs. Fitz of Leoch in how she loved making sure everyone was well fed, but Suzette was a bit less practical and more indulgent in the type of food she was serving. They were quiet while they ate, enjoying the peace of their surroundings. Fergus’s appetite seemed to rival Jamie’s. It must’ve been due to his inability to keep still for more than a few moments.</p><p>“Fergus,” said Jamie, as he finished peeling an orange, “hand over yer blade.”</p><p>Jamie threw several orange segments in his mouth before he took the sgian-dubh by the smooth wooden handle. He grabbed his own blade and started carving into the base.</p><p>“When will you let me steal Le Comte’s letters for you?” asked Fergus. “Do you think I’m ready yet?”</p><p>“Hmphm. I suppose ye are.”</p><p>“Where are you sending the boy first?” said Murtagh.</p><p>“Le Comte’s warehouse.” Jamie spoke as he carved into the handle of the blade. “Then, perhaps I’ll have him tail Le Comte on a few of his late night meetings.”</p><p>“If only Claire would stay home and not go to the damn hospital until we caught the bastard.”</p><p>Jamie grumbled, “D’ye want to be the to tell her she canna go doctoring?”</p><p>“Hmphm.”</p><p>The design he carved was simple and didn’t take long. When he finished, he asked Fergus, “Ye got a coin on ye, lad?”</p><p>The boy’s pale skin flushed red. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a fine, silk purse. He handed it over to Jamie.</p><p>“Where’d ye get this?”</p><p>“That pompous imbécile who scoffed at your kilt when we left the warehouse this morning.”</p><p>Murtagh chuckled as Jamie tried to keep a straight face. “Ye’re in my employ now. Ye canna be stealing unless I order it, aye?”</p><p>“Oui, Milord.”</p><p>Jamie took a coin from the purse and threw the rest back to Fergus. “Ye must pay for a blade so it knows its master.”</p><p>“Its master?”</p><p>“Aye. ’Tis yers now.” Before he handed the knife over, he cut the meat of his palm and drew blood. “And the blade must ken its purpose, aye?”</p><p>“Aye,” said Fergus. Jamie grinned at the boy picking up on his Scots.</p><p>“There ye are.” He handed him the knife. Jamie had carved the outline of a snake just like Sawny into the hilt. “So ye ken who gave it to ye.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Mine?”</p><p>“Aye. Hasna anyone ever given ye a gift before?”</p><p>Fergus looked down at the blade in his hands in awe. It was the most still Jamie had ever seen him. Finally, he spoke, “No...I’ve never been given anything like this before.”</p><p>Jamie cuffed him on the back. “Well, let’s put it to use. No blade should be meant strictly for decoration.”</p><p>He pulled the boy to his feet so they could practice again with a blade he could call his own.</p><p>__________________</p><p>Several weeks later, Jamie arrived home late from the warehouse. All he wanted was to find his wife, wrap her in his arms, and bury himself inside her before falling asleep. The house was dark, and he was certain everyone was at rest. He’d probably have to wake Claire to make love to her...he desperately hoped she wouldn’t mind. He’d make it worth her while. Thank goodness that after some weeks, her honeypot was showing signs of returning back to normal.</p><p>Peels of laughter echoed down the hall as he walked toward his bedchamber. It seemed he wouldn’t have to wake Claire after all.</p><p>
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</p><p>He peered in the room to find Claire lying in bed with two others sitting with her. Esmeralda was measuring Claire’s belly and taking notes of what she found. Jamie was prone to worry about a healer checking in on his wife so late in the evening, but Claire, on the other hand, was laughing as she told a story to Fergus.</p><p>“And Quasimodo swoops in, grabs the gypsy woman, and takes her back to Notre Dame.”</p><p>“And what of her goat?!” asks Fergus. “Did he leave the magic goat?”</p><p>Esmeralda laughed at Fergus, and spoke to him in French, “And here I thought I was the only one worried about Djali!”</p><p>Satisfied that Claire would not be telling stories of goats with such humor if their baby was in any danger, Jamie stepped into the room and removed his coat with ease.</p><p>“Jamie!” said Claire, delighted to see him. “You’re home late.”</p><p>“Aye. There was a wee problem wi’ a shipment at the warehouse.”</p><p>“Esmeralda had a late birth at the hospital, but still wanted to come by and check on me and the baby.”</p><p>“And how are ye and the bairn?”</p><p>“Ils sont en parfaite santé,” said Esmeralda. “Perfect health. The baby is growing just as she should.”</p><p>“Or he,” said Claire.</p><p>“Aye.” Jamie came to the bed, ruffling Fergus’s hair before sitting next to Claire. He grabbed her hand and kissed it softly. “Ye’re well, mo nighean donn?”</p><p>She nodded and smiled, joy glittering in her whisky eyes.</p><p>Jamie rubbed her belly, the small, round bump easily visible under her thin shift. “Mo chuisle.”</p><p>“Come, Fergus,” said Esmeralda. “Be a gentleman and escort me down to my carriage. Let us give your Milord and Milady some time alone.”</p><p>“Thank you for coming so late,” said Claire as Fergus put out an arm to escort the young woman away. “You really didn’t need to.”</p><p>“It was my pleasure. I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner.” She turned her attention back to Fergus and said, “Let us make our own ending to the story, huh? One where the goat was made safe.”</p><p>“Quasimodo brings the goat to the church instead of the woman!”</p><p>“Instead of the woman? You will drive your wife mad one day if you have such thoughts. Quasimodo must save the woman <em>and</em> the goat!”</p><p>“Why should I ever have need of a wife when I can have all the whores I want?”</p><p>“Oh, just you wait, young man…just you wait.” Their voices disappeared down the hall.”</p><p>Claire’s hand settled on Jamie’s thigh, rubbing gently back and forth. His eyes fell back on her face, the weight of the day melting away with her silent reassurance. He suddenly recalled his thoughts as he came home...thoughts of what he wanted to do to her.</p><p>He leaned forward and placed a kiss on her lips, soft and adoring. By her throaty moan, he knew she was more than willing to have him. Encouraged, he released the buttons on his vest one by one as his tongue tasted his wife, and discarded it on the floor. Claire’s hands moved down his chest and pulled his shirt free from where he’d tucked it in his kilt. He helped her pull it over his head and toss it aside.</p><p>When his boots and stockings were cast off, Jamie crawled over Claire like a slow moving panther. He grinned foolishly, relieved to finally gain the satisfaction his cock yearned for all day. He wore nothing but his kilt, loving how the Fraser colors looked against Claire’s pale, delicate skin. He pulled her shift over her head, wanting nothing more on their skin than his plaid.</p><p>“God, ye’ve the loveliest breasts I’ve ever seen. Yer nipples are growing bigger wi’ my child in yer belly, lass.” He took one of those nipples decadently in his mouth and tasted her sweet skin, savoring the feel of it hardening under his tongue.</p><p>“You seem to be handling their growing size just fine.”</p><p>“There are few times in life when duty and pleasure align perfectly.” He took the other in his mouth.</p><p>Claire’s hands were cold—as they usually were—when she traced them down his sides, sending a shiver clear down to his toes. He knew the quickest way to warm her up. He lifted his kilt and spread her leg wide, plunging his cock inside its home. She yelled out in pleasurable agony. He swallowed her sounds with his mouth as his hips set a steady rhythm.</p><p>A voice that was growing ever familiar rang out from the door. “Here are Le Comte’s letters, Milord. I’ll leave them on the table.”</p><p>“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!” said Claire, as she squirmed out from under Jamie and reached for the blanket.</p><p>Jamie sat back on his heels in frustration and looked to the door. “What d’ye want lad?”</p><p>“The letters from Le Comte, Milord. I’ll leave them here. You can give them back when you’re done making love to Milady so I can return them before he notices they’re gone.”</p><p>Jamie stood and made his way to the door. “Just give ’em here, lad.”</p><p>Fergus handed the letters over. “Murtagh taught me how to open them without breaking the seal.” He spoke with such pride, Jamie found it difficult to be too angry with him.</p><p>Jamie read quickly through the letters. “Nothing of significance, hmphm?”</p><p>“Nothing about the attack on Milady, but did you see the one about the location of the meet for his shipment? Perhaps you could lose the letter and be the one to receive his Madeira instead?”</p><p>Shocked at the deviousness of the suggestion, Jamie said, “Tha thu nad nathair bheag, are ye no’?”</p><p>Fergus shrugged, clueless about the Gàidhlig.</p><p>“We need to work on yer Gaelic, lad.”</p><p>“Why? No one in France speaks it.”</p><p>“That’s exactly why ye should ken it. We could speak wi’out fear of strangers overhearing.”</p><p>“Oh oui, Milord.”</p><p>Jamie crumbled the letter about the Madeira shipment and tossed it in the waste bin, then gave the rest of the letters back to Fergus. “Return these.”</p><p>“Are we going to get the other shipment?” he asked, bouncing on his heels.</p><p>“No, we are not! We’re just making life a bit more difficult for the bastard by disposing of the letter to keep him occupied.”</p><p>Fergus deflated in disappointment.</p><p>“Go on and get these back to the Comte's warehouse, will ye? And next time the door is closed to my bedchamber, dinna come barging in. Have the decency to knock.”</p><p>“You left the door open, Milord.”</p><p>“Hmphm. Then wait until I’ve finished making love to my wife before ye interrupt.”</p><p>Fergus snorted, “That could be all night! I’ve heard…”</p><p>“Get on wi’ ye!” Jamie turned the boy around and pushed him off. Fergus’s quiet footsteps were drowned out by his chuckles as he made his way down the hall.</p><p>Jamie turned back to Claire who was smiling at him from bed. He threw up his hands and shrugged.</p><p>“Shut the door, soldier...and bolt it this time.”</p><p>“Aye.” He did as ordered.</p><p>As he walked back to bed, he pulled loose his belt and let his kilt drop to the floor. “Now, where were we?”</p><p>He climbed back over his wife and settled between her legs. He pushed inside and sighed with relief once again.</p><p>“I may have to rethink my plans for a dozen children if they’re prone to interrupt our love-making like the wee lad.”</p><p>Claire laughed, “I do hear they put a bit of damper on the frequency of intercourse.”</p><p>“Hmphm. Then we better take advantage now.”</p><p>All patience forgotten, he was too needy for any more tenderness, Jamie pleasured his wife with efficiency and intention. When she was satisfied, he shifted focus to finding his own release.</p><p>He collapsed on the bed next to Claire as they both found their breath. He reached a hand over, resting it on her belly where the bump of his child could finally be seen.</p><p>“Did we wear our puir laddie out?”</p><p>“I’m sure he’s fast asleep with all that rocking,” she laughed. “Wait...did you say you had plans for a <em>dozen</em> children?”</p><p>“Hmphm. Aye.” His hand rubbed around the growing child.</p><p>“And I’m to be the one giving birth to all these babies?”</p><p>He turned his head to her, grinning wide, “Weel, I’ve no intention of planting my seed elsewhere.”</p><p>“I guess we’ll be leaving it up to God’s will.”</p><p>“Speaking of…” Jamie forced himself to roll out of bed. He made his way to his wardrobe where he kept the box Jenny had sent him. It just arrived the day before, but he hadn’t had a chance to show Claire.</p><p>He came back to the bed and sat next to his wife. He presented her the old box that he’d seen displayed in his house his entire life. “A gift for the bairn...a christening gift.</p><p>“Jamie…” she said breathless as she opened the box. She took out one of twelve silver spoons and examined the finely crafted handle.</p><p>
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</p><p>“They’re apostle spoons. One for each apostle...one for each bairn,” he laughed.</p><p>“They’re beautiful!”</p><p>“They’ve been in my family for generations. I sent a messenger to Lallybroch to retrieve them as soon as I kent we’d be staying in Paris.”</p><p>She set the spoon back in its place, then she grazed her fingertips over all twelve little apostles. “Do you think…” she hesitated. “I’m not sure I’ll be any good at it.”</p><p>“At what?”</p><p>“Being a mother. I hardly remember my own.”</p><p>Jamie tried hard not to laugh. The idea that such a loving woman wouldn’t make a wonderful mother was nothing short of madness to him. “Ye ken how to be a wife just fine, mo nighean donn, even as yer mother never taught how to do that.”</p><p>“I don’t have to do much of anything to be a wife. I just have to be myself...and perhaps exercise a bit of patience.”</p><p>Jamie couldn’t stop his laughter any longer. “And ye think being a mother is any different? The love ye hold in yer heart for this bairn is enough to make ye greatest mother in the world, Claire. And if ye have enough patience for me and wee Fergus, then I ken ye’ll have the patience for our wean.”</p><p>“But what if...what if I mess it all up somehow?”</p><p>“I’m sure we’ll make mistakes. My parents certainly did. But what we dinna ken, we’ll learn...together.” He lifted her chin and kissed her softly. “Ye’re no’ alone, Claire. I’ll be wi’ ye always...until we’re auld and feeble and I send ye back through the stones to meet me again.”</p><p>
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</p><p>A tear fell down her cheek. She nodded softly and pressed her lips to Jamie’s. He took the box from her hands and set it aside. He crawled back into bed and wrapped her in his arms.</p><p>Before she drifted off to sleep, she sighed deeply and said, “Twelve is pretty ambitious. We haven’t even had the first one yet, and our sex life is already being interrupted. I think you’ll have to start collecting children elsewhere.”</p><p>He laughed, “Dinna fash, mo ghraidh. If we have to hide in closets or steal away to the stables, I’ll be sure to find time to do my husbandly duty by ye, no matter how many bairns are beating down the door.”</p><p>He watched as his wife fell asleep in his arms. He kissed her hair and stroked her cheek until she was still save the steady rhythm of her breath.</p><p>When he knew he wouldn’t wake her, he rose out of bed and donned his shirt. He moved to the window and stared out at the streets of Paris, waiting for the wee laddie to come home safe.</p><p>__________________</p><p>Jamie was in an aggravating dance with Time. He was counting down the days to meet his child for the first time, but fighting fiercely against it as Claire’s fifth month of gestation grew closer. They had one more week before her body would be off limits.</p><p>He tried to content himself with the thought of holding her in his arms and cradling her growing belly as they slept, but making love to his wife felt like such a necessary part of his existence.</p><p>They still had one more week of love-making, and he was determined to get all he could before his 5-6 month vow of chastity took place (Claire said she'd be ready to make love a month or two after giving birth).</p><p>He thought about it all day long while working, and he kept thinking about it the whole carriage ride home. He thought about it as the servants threw open the front door to let him in and as he bounded up the stairs to find his wife.</p><p>He found her soaking in a bath in their bedroom. <em>Good, she was already naked.</em></p><p>“Bonsoir, ma femme,” he said as he began his disrobing. “How was the hospital today?”</p><p>He kissed her before she had a chance to answer.</p><p>
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</p><p>Her lips tasted of a sweet cake or pastry. “Mmmm. What have you been eating?” He licked across her lips again.</p><p>She giggled. “Fergus brought me the most delicious little cake.”</p><p>“He did? Why?”</p><p>“He said the whores liked being pampered when they had a long day at work. He noticed I was a bit tired when I came home from the hospital. He left for an hour and came back bearing gifts.”</p><p>Jamie continued his kisses down her neck. He reached in the bath to feel her wet, naked skin. “Gifts? More than just the cake?”</p><p>“Mmhm. Breathe deep.”</p><p>Jamie inhaled the lovely scents of bergamot and vanilla. “Perfume?”</p><p>“Yes...and sweet herbs for the bath.”</p><p>Jamie snorted, “The lad kens too damn much about lassies. Where did he get these gifts?”</p><p>She raised her eyebrows, “Where do you think?”</p><p>“Shifty wee thief.”</p><p>“I told him he shouldn’t have done it.”</p><p>Jamie grinned, “But practical woman that ye are, ye thought it best no’ to let the gifts go to waste?”</p><p>She shrugged. “He has something for you, too.”</p><p>“Me?” For some reason, that made Jamie nervous. “Where is the wee lad?”</p><p>“I’ve no idea. Is he even still home?”</p><p>A loud crash sounded from downstairs.</p><p>“Hmphm. I think I found him.” Jamie reluctantly pulled away from Claire. He hunted down his clothes and put them back on before venturing out to find the source of the noise.</p><p>Jamie found the boy in his study hanging off the highest shelf, reaching for a bottle of champagne. The floor was covered in broken glass and sparkling wine, the scent of fermented grapes and a pile of wasted coin met his nose.</p><p>“What the devil d’ye think ye’re doing, ye wee fool?”</p><p>“Celebrating!” With surprising agility, Fergus bounded down the shelves and landed in a splash of champagne. He held the bottle that was still intact out to Jamie with a grin on his face. “For you, Milord!”</p><p>“And what are we celebrating?” Jamie took the bottle and set it on a nearby table.</p><p>Fergus came close to Jamie with his shoulders bent and his voice low and conspiratorial, “I intercepted a letter today that requested Le Comte’s presence at Maison Elise tonight with a member of La Disciple.”</p><p>“What is La Disciple?”</p><p>“An underground organization of criminals. He requested a meeting with them. He is attempting to hire them for a secret job.”</p><p>“Tonight at Maison Elise?”</p><p>“Oui, Milord. You ken he’ll be plotting against Milady.”</p><p>“Aye,” Jamie smiled at the boy’s turn of phrase, though not the content. “Take Murtagh wi’ ye. I dinna want ye going unprotected.”</p><p>“I’m not unprotected. I have my sgian-dubh.”</p><p>“Aye, but…”</p><p>“Murtagh can’t come. He is known to be your man.”</p><p>Jamie shook his head. “I’m no’ fond of waiting up for ye at night wondering if yer coming home safe.”</p><p>“Then go to sleep. I can wake you when I get back.”</p><p>“Hmphm. ’Tis no’ that simple.”</p><p>“I must go alone, or I’m at greater risk. You know this, Milord.”</p><p>Jamie tried to think of a better idea, but he was coming up blank. “Fine. Go there, listen in, then come straight back. No stealing. No funny business, aye?”</p><p>“Funny business? Moi?”</p><p>
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</p><p>“Aye, you. Now, when are they meeting?”</p><p>“The letter only said sometime tonight.”</p><p>“Ye better be off, then.”</p><p>“Oui, Milord.” Fergus turned and scurried out of the room without a goodbye.</p><p>“Och, Fergus!” Jamie called.</p><p>The boy poked his head back in the door with an exasperated look of “what now?”</p><p>“Have Suzette pack ye some food to take wi’ ye.”</p><p>Fergus grinned. “I already ate, Milord. I should be fine.”</p><p>That was a surprise. “Yer saying that belly of yers filled up? Is that possible?”</p><p>Fergus just shook his head and laughed before darting away.</p><p>Jamie called for Suzette to have the mess cleaned up before he went back upstairs to Claire. He tried not to think of the danger he was putting the boy in by sending him out in such a way. He justified that he was doing it to protect his wife and unborn child.</p><p>“Focus, lad,” he whispered to himself, “Ye’ve only got a week left to make love to yer wife.” He forced his attention away from worry over the boy and on to more pleasant things.</p><p>Jamie knew the sight of Claire would put his mind at ease...but he wasn’t expecting what he found as he entered his room.</p><p>“Christ, woman! What are ye wearing?”</p><p>“Oh, you’re back!”</p><p>“Aye. I’m gone no’ but a few moments and come back to ye dressed like…like…” he stopped himself. His mother would turn over in her grave if he finished his sentence and called his wife such a name.</p><p>“Like…?”</p><p>“Where did’ye get that...that...scrap of silk? I can see half yer thighs and clear down to yer navel!” The top of her shift seemed to be held together only by the most delicate of ribbon. One pull of the tiny string and the whole thing would come undone. Though it wouldn’t matter much if the shift did come off; the pinks of her nipples were already visible through the thin fabric.</p><p>Claire was smirking at him in the most patronizing way. “Fergus gave it to me.”</p><p>“Fergus! What the devil is that wee heathen doing stealing ye a shift like that?”</p><p>“He didn’t steal it for <em>me</em>; he stole it for <em>you</em>.”</p><p>“Wait a minute…”</p><p>Claire snorted a laugh. “He thought you’d like to see me in it, is all.”</p><p>“And ye're alright wi’ the laddie doing such a thing?”</p><p>“Of course not. But as you said...practical woman that I am, there’s no need to waste such a fine garment. Weren’t you the one that said the boy means well; he just needs to learn some manners.”</p><p>“Hmphm.”</p><p>“You know...in my time, most women owned at least <em>some</em> undergarments made purely for seduction.”</p><p>Jamie snorted. He’d heard a thousand times about the loose morals of her twentieth century. “Ye’re my <em>wife</em>. Ye dinna need such things to accomplish seduction.”</p><p>Her golden eyes were dark caramel in the firelight. She pursed her lips and looked up at him through her lashes. No, the woman didn’t need a whore’s shift to get him into her bed. She had his cock as solid as iron with merely a glance.</p><p>“I don’t think seductive undergarments are meant <em>only</em> to make a man burn with want,” she said, slowly pulling the tie of her shift.</p><p>“No?” His voice was unexpectedly rough and husky.</p><p>“They’re meant to make a woman feel...feminine...beautiful...erotic.”</p><p>He was nearly humming by the time the ribbon fell free. The dark curls of her long hair contrasted with the white skin of her breast. “Ye’re always those things, mo nighean donn.”</p><p>“But when I’ve spent the day at the hospital, helping women give birth, or when I’m lying ill in bed with morning sickness, sometimes I might need to remind myself that I am a woman of passionate, amorous intentions.”</p><p>She stepped close to him, presenting herself in the open garment.</p><p>“I’m a fool of a man if I let ye forget such a thing, Sassenach.”</p><p>“Then touch me, soldier, and remind me.”</p><p>As Jamie reached in his wife’s shift and grabbed a handful of her breast, he thought aloud, “Perhaps the wee lad isna such a daftie, after all.”</p><p>
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</p><p>_________________</p><p>Just like he’d done every night that he sent Fergus out on a mission, Jamie stayed up going over the ledgers with one eye on the numbers and the other eye on the window, looking for some sign of movement in the dark Paris streets.</p><p>He should have sent Murtagh with the boy. It wasn’t fair of him to risk the child’s neck as a means to his own end. When he’d first hired the boy, all that mattered was finding a way to keep Claire and their bairn safe...he didn’t intend on growing fond of the wee fool.</p><p>He blew out the candle he was using to look at the ledgers. He wasn’t paying attention to them anyway. Not when he was worried about Fergus.</p><p>He stood by the window, drinking his whisky and scanning the streets for a quick-footed boy. He watched for what must have been hours, reminded of his years as a mercenary, standing guard, holding watch throughout the night.</p><p>The first sign of moment didn’t come from the young lad, but from the shadows themselves. They seemed to be moving across the street. Jamie stayed still, staring with the eyes of a hawk.</p><p>There was a man lurking in the dark, cloaked in black to blend with the night. Jamie would wager Jared’s finest bottle of spirits that it was the same man who’d been following Fergus from before.</p><p>Slowly, Jamie moved away from the window and belted on his sword and dirk. He clubbed his hair back to make sure it wouldn’t fall in his eyes. Whoever this man was, Jamie was about to show him the boy was under the Laird Broch Tuarach’s protection.</p><p>Jamie made his way quietly out the back door so the man wouldn’t see him coming. He stuck to the shadows for as long as he could. He could hardly see in the dark with only a sliver of the moon visible in the sky...there was naught but an outline of a hulking figure peering up at the house. The only thing that gave Jamie’s approach away was the sound of his sword being pulled from its sheath.</p><p>With surprising speed for someone caught off guard, the man spun around unsheathing his own sword with a flash of movement. Jamie could see the slightest glint of moonlight on a great Damascus blade as it swung down toward his face. Jamie parried the blow with a swing of his sword in his left hand.</p><p><em>Dear God, the strength of him!</em> </p><p>They clashed clumsily in the dark, two expert swordsmen blinded with the lack of sun, moving on instinct and pure desperation. Finally, Jamie, with a parry of his sword and a body chuck into the man’s chest, pinned him against the wall with a blade to his throat.</p><p>“Who the devil are ye? And what d’ye want wi’ the boy?” he demanded.</p><p>The man spoke in a most elegant French tongue. “I was not expecting you to be so fast...nor so strong.”</p><p>Jamie pushed the blade harder against his throat. “Dinna make me ask again.”</p><p>“But I was expecting you to be smarter.” The man drove his knee between Jamie’s legs, hitting him hard in the balls.</p><p>Jamie’s gut clenched in pain, and a wave of nausea washed over him. He was struck in the side by a heavy, hammering fist and again firmly on the jaw. As his head spun in disorientation, fears for Fergus and Claire flashed through his mind. The man outmaneuvered him, turning their bodies and trading places. The great Damascus blade was tight against Jamie’s throat as he struggled to catch his breath, pinned against the wall.</p><p>“Who...are...ye?” Jamie struggled for breath. “What do ye want wi’ the boy?”</p><p>The man chuckled a low, menacing sound. “Si seulement tu savais…”</p><p>His words were cut short with a grunt of pain. Jamie looked around, hoping Murtagh had heard the trouble and come to aid him. He couldn’t see anyone.</p><p>The man in black released Jamie, spinning around and lunging for something Jamie couldn’t see. A loud cry of fear told Jamie it must’ve been Fergus coming to his aid. Sure enough, he saw the man pushed Fergus hard against the wall.</p><p>Jamie lunged with all that was left of his strength, swinging the blade down. The man moved quickly out of the blade’s reach, and Jamie’s sword clashed against the stone road, sparks flying and vibrations moving up Jamie’s arm.</p><p>By the time Jamie had his sword back in ready position, the man was halfway down the street and disappearing further into the shadows.</p><p>Jamie turned to Ferus, who lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. He bent down to assess for damage.</p><p>“Ye alright, lad? What has he done to ye?”</p><p>With a pained voice, Fergus answered, “Is he dead? Did I kill him?”</p><p>“Nah. He ran away, the bloody coward.”</p><p>Jamie saw the sgian dubh in Fergus’s hand covered with blood. “Did ye stab him then?”</p><p>“Oui, Milord. I aimed for the kidney, like you said! But he was bigger than I realized.”</p><p>“Aye...I ken that. How’s yer head?”</p><p>“It’s fine.”</p><p>Jamie ran a hand over the lad’s skull. There was a large bump and a bit of blood where his head struck the wall. “Come. Let’s go find yer Lady. She’ll patch ye right up.”</p><p>He pulled the boy up to standing, and helped him along back to the house. As they went around through the door, Jamie said, “I thank ye, Fergus. Ye may well have saved my life.”</p><p>“And I’m certain you saved mine, Milord.”</p><p>Though he had questions for the boy, he decided to put them off until he was checked by Claire.</p><p>Remembering Claire wasn’t dressed, Jamie brought Fergus to his study and had him wait while Jamie retrieved the resident healer. He’d filled her in on the events of the evening before she came down to tend to the lad.</p><p>Claire clicked her tongue a half dozen times, scoffing and grunting like a true Scot as she mended the boy’s head. She kept her chiding to a minimum, clearly grateful to Fergus for saving her husband’s life.</p><p>When Claire was done with her bandaging, Jamie pulled up a chair across from Fergus and set out to find some answers.</p><p>“How went it at the brothel, laddie?”</p><p>Fergus’s eyes lit up and he nearly bounced in his seat as he told Jamie what happened at Maison Elise. “Well, Le Comte St. Germain never arrived for the meeting. I was all but ready to give up on him, but stayed a moment longer, just to be sure.”</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“I overheard a conversation...a plot to attack Milady.”</p><p>Jamie exchanged a look of concern with his wife.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Who was it?”</p><p>“I do not know. Likely a representative of Le Comte, no? He was supposed to meet La Disciple tonight. He probably sent someone else to keep his hands clean.”</p><p>Jamie nodded, “Aye. ’Tis the way of such men.”</p><p>“But we can’t know for sure,” said Claire.</p><p>“Did’ye hear what they were plotting, Fergus?”</p><p>“Oui. They are planning to sabotage her carriage while she is at L'Hôpital des Anges, forcing her to walk home in the dark. They are going to attack her when she turns off the main road so there are fewer witnesses.”</p><p>Jamie looked at Claire again, determined to prevent such an attack. “I think ye need to start yer bed rest a week early, Sassenach. We canna risk ye being out in public.”</p><p>“But we still don’t know if it’s the Comte that is responsible for neither this attack nor for the poisoning,” she said.</p><p>“Better ignorant than dead, mo nighean donn. Think of the wean.”</p><p>She sighed heavily and sat beside Fergus. Jamie was grateful the baby made her more cautious than usual.</p><p>“Perhaps we should let her go to L'Hôpital, Milord.”</p><p>“We?”</p><p>“Aye,” said Fergus. “Send me with her to L'Hôpital. You and Murtagh can follow from a distance. When the men come to attack...you catch them!”</p><p>“Fergus,” said Claire, “I’m certain the Comte will not be a part of the attack. We still won’t know it’s him.”</p><p>“No’ unless we capture the attackers and question them,” said Jamie, considering Fergus’s plan. “Ye ken, Sassenach, I dinna want to put ye and the wean in harm’s way, but we may never have another opportunity like this to find out who it really is that’s after ye.”</p><p>“Murtagh thinks he should just kill Le Comte and be done with it,” said Claire. “I’m not typically one for violence, but…” she rested her hand on her belly, “it is sounding more and more appealing.”</p><p>“But we still willna ken if it was him that’s after ye. What if there’s someone else?” He took Claire’s hand. “I dinna think we have a choice, Claire. Ye must trust me and Murtagh to keep ye safe.”</p><p>She worried her bottom lip, but nodded in agreement. <em>Such a brave wee thing.</em></p><p>“And what about the man who attacked you tonight?” she asked. “The one who’s been following Fergus? Do you think the Comte is responsible for him, too?”</p><p>Jamie sighed heavily. “No. I dinna think he is.”</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>“Because the first time I laid eyes on the man was when the lad picked Jared’s pocket. Few ken Fergus is in my employ as it is, but he had naught to do wi’ us that first day.”</p><p>“Then who could it be?” She looked to Fergus. “Is someone trying to hurt you? Did you steal from the wrong person?”</p><p>Jamie noticed the boy's eyes went wide and his bottom lip was trembling.</p><p>“D’ye ken who it is, lad? Does someone want to hurt ye?”</p><p>The boy shook his head in fear. His shoulders slouched, and he seemed to be pulling away from both Jamie and Claire. “No, Milord. No one cares enough about me to wish me harm.”</p><p>“Then why is he following ye?”</p><p>Fergus shook his head and moisture filled his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Milord. I did not know he meant you any harm.”</p><p>Claire sat up straight and looked between Jamie and Fergus. Jamie grabbed the boy’s arms and forced him still.</p><p>“Tell me everything,” Jamie said, low and menacing.</p><p>Fergus trembled in Jamie’s hands, his whole body shaking as he spoke. “It is not me he wants, Milord. Nor is it Milady. It is you he’s after.”</p><p>Jamie let go of the boy, fearful he’d hurt him in anger. He took deep breaths to steady himself.</p><p>Fergus went on, “He found me the first day I stole from you at the apothecary. He said you had something valuable to him, and he wanted me to steal it.”</p><p>“What is it he thinks I have?”</p><p>“I do not know. He said I would know it when I found it. He offered me a great reward. So...I searched your bag and found nothing but coins and the snake. The man said he didn’t want your toys, so he let me have it. Then he sent me to your cousin to search him and his warehouse. I found nothing of significance. When you offered me a job stealing for you, I thought I could get paid by you, and look for whatever it was the man wanted in your house.”</p><p>“Playing both sides,” said Claire, an unhappy look on her face. “Clever lad.”</p><p>“Nathair bheag,” grunted Jamie.</p><p>“Please, Milady,” said Fergus. “I did not know he meant to harm Milord. I would never let that happen. I’m so sorry. Je suis vraiment désolé!” Tears poured down the child’s cheeks. “Je t'aime, Milady. I stopped looking for the man’s foolish trinket ages ago. I’d never harm you. You must believe me!”</p><p>Claire looked to Jamie with aching sympathy in her eyes. She wrapped her arms around Fergus and pulled him into her chest. He wept on, begging for penance for his sins, begging for a beating to make things right. Professing his determination to stay and help them find anyone who meant them harm.</p><p>“Quiet yer weeping, lad,” said Jamie with a stern tone.</p><p>Fergus did his best to comply. His shoulders shook with silent, quaking sobs as his mouth sealed itself closed in an attempt to cut off all sound.</p><p>“Now, I ken ye’re telling the truth of it. I dinna think ye so much a coward to hurt a woman ye dote on as much as Claire.”</p><p>“Oui, Milord!”</p><p>“Quiet!</p><p>Fergus stilled once again.</p><p>“And I owe ye my life for helping me wi’ that bastard tonight. Ye tried to kill the man to save me. I ken where yer loyalties lie.”</p><p>Still quiet, Fergus nodded vigorously.</p><p>“You’ll stay wi’ us, aye?”</p><p>“Oui, Milord.”</p><p>“We’ll come up wi’ a plan to protect our Lady. If this man has naught to do with Le Comte, then we have yet another enemy to be wary of. I’ll trust ye to help me protect this family.”</p><p>“Oui, Milord. I swear it.”</p><p>“Dinna swear to me unless ye’re willing to stake yer life on it, ken? I’m a Scot, no’ a Frenchman. A man’s word has meaning in the Highlands.”</p><p>“I swear it, Milord.” He pulled the sgian dubh from his waistband and brought the blade to his lips. “I swear on the blade you gave me. I’m loyal to none but you and Milady.”</p><p>Jamie nodded his approval and placed a hand on the boy’s head. “I’ll hold ye to that, lad. And ye’ve got my protection, as well.”</p><p>Fergus held a look of fierce determination in his red, swollen eyes. Claire turned him to face her, holding his cheeks in her hands. “Thank you for guarding Jamie so diligently, my darling...and thank you for spying on those men to protect me. We know what this could cost you.”</p><p>“Aye,” said Jamie. “And I’ll no’ be risking ye anymore for such tasks on yer own.”</p><p>“But…” Fergus objected.</p><p>Jamie silenced him with a look. “Ye’ve more to offer me than risking yer neck all the time, ken? We’ll figure out another way to keep ye from being idle.”</p><p>Fergus nodded in defeat. Claire gathered him in her arms once more and held him close as they sat in silence and absorbed the events of the evening. His body still quaked with an occasional muted sob long after conversation came to an end. He finally settled down as he fell asleep in his Lady’s arms.</p><p>Jamie took Claire’s hand in his as he stroked the boy’s hair. “The wee fool.”</p><p>Claire gave a quiet laugh. “You might not be alive without him.”</p><p>“Aye. I suppose I’m just as foolish as he is.”</p><p>“Jamie,” said Claire, her tone full of worry, “we need to find out who’s after you.”</p><p>He nodded. “Aye...but ye first, Sassenach.”</p><p>Jamie stood to gather Fergus in his arms. He cradled the sleeping boy like a small child. Jamie noticed he’d put on a little weight in their time together. Claire stood with them and stroked the hair from the boy’s face.</p><p>“We’ll talk wi’ Murtagh in the morning about the attack they’re planning for ye. I will keep this family safe, mo nighean donn.”</p><p>“I know you will.”</p><p>She kissed him softly before he left to put the boy to bed.</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>You have no idea how excited I am to share these last three chapters...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Cinq</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And here we go...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <a href="https://ibb.co/drNZQHj">  </a>
</p><p>All I could see was the blood dripping down my leg and staining the discarded newspaper beneath my feet. From my knowledge of history, the <em>Mercure de France</em> wouldn’t report on blood running in the streets until the Revolution...I’d always been ahead of my time.</p><p>“Has the bleeding stopped?” Jamie asked Esmeralda. Memories of the bright red droplets seemed to be getting more and more dramatic every time they replayed in my mind—Jamie seemed to be having the same problem. He’d been pacing at the foot of the bed since the healer arrived. I knew he wanted to be at my side, but he was fearful of getting in the way. His warring needs were making him frustratingly restless.</p><p>“Yes. It was only a few drops of blood.”</p><p>“How is the baby?” I asked.</p><p>“I hear her heartbeat, nice and strong.”</p><p>“Is my cervix intact? My mucus plug?”</p><p>“I can only go by what I feel, but everything seems in order.”</p><p>“What do you think caused the bleeding?”</p><p>“We can’t possibly identify such a thing, as you well know.”</p><p>I nodded in defeat. There were no eighteenth century tools that could monitor my pregnancy in any reliable way, aside from taking measurements and listening to the heartbeat. A part of me thought I should go back to the twentieth century—if that were even possible—to have a safer chance at delivery, but I could never leave Jamie...I’d rather die than be without him...</p><p>A knock on my bedroom door pulled my attention from such tragic, helpless thoughts.</p><p>“Fergus,” I whispered, pleased to see him back from helping Murtagh. He came and sat on the side of the bed next to me, grasping my hand, worry etched throughout every line of his youthful face.</p><p>“Are you well, Milady?”</p><p>“I’m fine, according to the healer.”</p><p>Esmeralda raised an eyebrow, piercing me with her sharp, sapphire stare. “I said the baby’s heart is beating and your pregnancy is still viable...I did not say you were <em>fine</em>.”</p><p>I sat up quickly and grabbed her arm. Jamie was at my side, replacing Fergus in an instant. “What d’ye mean she’s no’ fine?”</p><p>Esmeralda spoke directly to me. “I mean that your body is talking to you, Claire. You must listen to it. You should stay in bed. You should only get up a few times a day to maintain your strength for delivery. And no engaging in intercourse. Complete pelvic rest!”</p><p>The sharpness of her tone was something I’d never heard before and had me flinching back. Yet I could see the concern in her eyes.</p><p>“I...I understand.”</p><p>Those piercing blue eyes stayed locked with mine for a moment before she forced herself to pull them away. She stood up to pack her bag, clearly worried about my condition.</p><p>
  <em>Was I going to lose this baby? Did I make a mistake going along with the plan to capture the men who tried to attack me?</em>
</p><p>My thoughts replayed the events of the day in my head:</p><p>
  <em>Fergus taking me to the hospital to play along with the setup of my would-be attackers...us coming out at the end of my shift to find our carriage wheel broken...walking down the quiet street where I knew Jamie and Murtagh would be waiting...footsteps and laughter sounding behind me...three men coming after me with evil in their eyes...Jamie and Murtagh emerging from the shadows to shield me...two dead bodies in puddles of their own blood...the third man bound and gagged for questioning.</em>
</p><p>That was when Jamie noticed the blood. He rushed me home and sent Fergus to fetch Esmeralda. Murtagh was tasked with taking the prisoner to the warehouse to start gathering information.</p><p>I <em>felt</em> fine that morning. I <em>still</em> felt fine, aside from the worry causing tension to seize my whole body. I didn’t realize that when my future self instructed me to go on bed rest at five months, that I meant exactly five months.</p><p>“<em>Pelvic rest</em>?” Jamie muttered with narrowed eyes. I wondered what he was thinking. He knew exactly what pelvic rest meant as much as we talked about it. He didn’t respond to my raised brow.</p><p>“Oui,” said Esmeralda, a small smile cracking her worried exterior. “Think of this bed as Notre Dame...<em>Sanctuary! Sanctuary!</em>”</p><p>I gave a weak smile. At this moment in time, the baby was ok...and I was ok. I could be cautious for the next four months. There were plenty of books to keep me occupied. Louise and Mary were sure to visit. Murtagh, Fergus, and Jamie would provide plenty of distraction.</p><p>“I’ll just be on my way,” said Esmeralda.</p><p>Jamie stood to escort her out, but she put up a hand and nodded in my direction. “I remember how to find the door. Stay with your wife, mon Seigneur.”</p><p>He returned to his seat, grabbing hold of my hand once more. When Esmeralda’s footsteps could no longer be heard, Jamie turned back to me with guilt coloring his expression. “I’m sorry, mo ghraidh. I shouldna have allowed ye to come out.”</p><p>“Stop, Jamie. The baby and I will be fine if we stay in bed. There’s no sense in beating yourself up for doing what we all agreed was best at the time.”</p><p>He gave a reluctant smile that didn’t reach his eyes. That told me he would pretend to accept my suggestion to appease me, but he had no intention of listening.</p><p>Fergus was at my nightstand, playing with the flame of one of the candles. He moved his hand through the fire just quick enough so he wouldn’t get burned.</p><p>“What did Esmeralda mean by, ‘<em>Sanctuary! Sanctuary!</em>’?” he asked.</p><p>“Please don’t burn yourself, darling. Don’t you remember the story I was telling the last time she was here? <span class="u">The Hunchback of Notre Dame</span>. Quasimodo yelled out the words when he brought the gypsy to the cathedral.”</p><p>Fergus laughed, “You did not tell us that part. How did she know?”</p><p>“Perhaps she read the book herself. It’s a popular French classic.”</p><p>“I’ve never heard of such a book,” said Jamie.</p><p>“Surely you must have.” He was far more well read than I was in French literature. At least, everything written up through the 1740’s…</p><p>“I think I’d remember a tale of hunchbacks and goats and gypsies sentenced to death,” he grunted.</p><p>“Perhaps Esmeralda is the <em>real</em> Esmeralda from the story!” said Fergus. “She looks like a gypsy with her jewel eyes and her black, curly hair.”</p><p>“Hmm. Unlikely.” I hadn’t finished telling him what happens at the end of the story. “She doesn’t have a goat, after all.”</p><p>“I can guess what happened to poor Djali,” he huffed in disappointment.</p><p>“Enough about goats, lad,” said Jamie. “What news from Murtagh?”</p><p>Fergus’s face was uncharacteristically severe when he said, “La Disciple confirmed...they were hired by Le Comte St. Germain. They were the ones who poisoned you at the palace, Milady. And they were the ones who attacked you today.”</p><p>“How did they know it was Le Comte if he sent a representative to arrange the transaction?”</p><p>“They were corresponding directly with him by letter, Sassenach,” said Jamie. “Remember?”</p><p>“Right.”</p><p>“We kent it was him all along. Now we have proof.”</p><p>“What will you do?”</p><p>Jamie turned to rest his back against the stack of pillows behind him. He didn’t let go of my hand. “I’ll challenge him to a duel, of course.”</p><p>“Isn’t that illegal?”</p><p>“Aye, though the King doesna pay any mind to such things, especially if arranged to transpire in the countryside where witnesses are few.”</p><p>“But...what if the Comte declines?”</p><p>Jamie laughed without humor. “Then I’ll slit his throat. I’m giving him an opportunity for an honorable death, Sassenach. If he refuses to accept it, then he shall die a coward.”</p><p>“I’m not sure the French hold the same value in honor as Highlanders, darling.”</p><p>“Either way, he willna be a danger to my wife any longer.”</p><p>“But...what if he tries to cheat?”</p><p>“Cheat?”</p><p>“You said yourself, he’s known to travel in dark, underground circles.”</p><p>Jamie looked at me like I’d gone mad with blood loss. “Ye dinna believe he can use witchcraft on me in a duel now, do ye?”</p><p>“Perhaps not witchcraft, but he’s most certainly capable of poisons, deceptions, and trickery.”</p><p>“Poison? The bastard didna even ken that bitter cascara wouldna kill ye.”</p><p>“Well, as you said, he’s likely learned from his mistake.”</p><p>Fergus climbed up on the bed and bounced on his knees. “It wasn’t the Comte who bought the bitter cascara.”</p><p>“What? Who then? And how do you know?”</p><p>“It was that man from La Disciple. He told Murtagh he went to Maître Raymond’s apothecary and asked a witch in the shop if she had recommendations for a poison. She gave him the bitter cascara claiming it to be most deadly.”</p><p>“See,” said Claire. “Le Comte wouldn’t make such a foolish mistake...certainly not twice.”</p><p>Jamie sighed heavily. “Weel, I will have to forgo niceties and decline any offers from him for tea while we prepare our blades. Come now. ’Tis verra late, and I’ve much to attend to in the morning. Fergus, kiss yer Lady goodnight and be off wi’ ye.”</p><p>Fergus rolled his eyes at this spontaneously imposed bedtime, but he kissed me softly on both cheeks before dragging his feet out of the room. When the door was closed behind him, Jamie stood up and began disrobing.</p><p>He stripped down naked as he usually did, but before he cast aside his shirt, he looked at me and hesitated. “I didna mean to imply...I can put this back on if ye’d like.”</p><p>“No. Even if I can’t make love to you, I’d still like to touch you.”</p><p>“Aye,” he smiled tenderly, tossing aside his shirt. He climbed back into bed and helped me out of my shift. I curled into his side as best as I could with my new little belly and rested my head on his chest.</p><p>“Dinna fash, my Sassenach. I promised ye the protection of my body, and I meant it.”</p><p>“I know...I just...I wish I could be there to protect yours. If you’re injured somehow, there’s little I could do on bed rest.”</p><p>“I’ve no intention of injuring myself.”</p><p>“You never intend such things, my love. Are you sure you can’t wait until this child is born so I can come with you?”</p><p>“I canna, mo chridhe, as ye verra well ken.” He kissed the top of her head and stroked her hair. She listened to the steady rhythm of his heart.</p><p>“When do you think the duel will happen?”</p><p>“Hmphm. I dinna ken. Hopefully wi’in a week.”</p><p>A whole week of worrying. Jamie felt my tension and began rubbing the tightness out of my shoulders.</p><p>“Mmmm,” I hummed. “That does help…a little.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>I kissed his chest, needing my lips on him, as chaste as the kiss may be.</p><p>“Only four more months before he’s here, mo ghraidh. Such a relief it will be to have him safe in our arms.”</p><p>“Perhaps filling the next four months with life-threatening duels will help time fly by a little faster.”</p><p>“Hmphm.” His massaging hands were moving lighter and lighter across my skin.</p><p>“Jamie…?”</p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p>“Can I tell you something strange?”</p><p>He chuckled, “You? Strange? Ma dame blanche?”</p><p>I pinched his side. Unfortunately, it tickled him more than it hurt. “I’m being serious.”</p><p>“Then stop that and tell me,” he snorted.</p><p>I lifted my head to look in his eyes. “You know that story I was telling Fergus and Esmeralda?”</p><p>“The goat and the hunchback, aye.”</p><p>“I...the more I think about it, the more I’m certain the book was written and published in the nineteenth century...not the eighteenth.”</p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>“I never told Esmeralda about the most memorable line of the story. The ‘<em>Sanctuary!</em>’ line.”</p><p>“Ye dinna think she could’ve guessed it? It was obvious that sanctuary is what the characters were seeking.”</p><p>“But the way she said it...it was just like the film…”</p><p>He placed a wild strand of hair behind my ear. “Ye think she’s like you then, Sassenach?”</p><p>“I really don’t know. Someone could’ve told her the story, like I did for Fergus. There could be other time travelers out there.”</p><p>“She talks funny, ye ken. Says things like <em>pelvic rest</em>. Ye’re the only person I’ve ever heard speak such nonsense.” He smiled sweetly as his finger grazed the line of my jaw. “What d’ye ken of her? Anything about her family? About where she’s from?”</p><p>“I don’t really know. I tend to avoid asking such questions of people in order to avoid them asking the same of me.”</p><p>“Aye. The lass doesna look verra French...perhaps a wee bit in her bones, but her complexion is none so sallow.”</p><p>“Her French sounds native, though.”</p><p>“Aye. D’ye trust her, knowing she might not be telling ye everything?”</p><p>I shrugged, “She hasn’t given me a reason not to. She’s an excellent healer. And she seems to have genuine concern for me.”</p><p>“Aye, that much is clear. She’s had ample opportunity to harm ye these past months and has never done so. She may have her secrets, but her intentions are pure.”</p><p>“And if she’s different, like me? Should I say something to her? Perhaps she knows why I am the way I am.”</p><p>“I dinna ken, Sassenach. Just...be careful who ye tell about the stones, aye? We dinna need a witch trial while ye’re on <em>pelvic rest</em>.”</p><p>I kissed him once more before settling back into his arms. “I love you, Jamie.”</p><p>“And I love ye, mo nighean donn.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>___________________</p><p>Two days later, Jamie woke early with plans of visiting a vineyard outside the city. He helped me into my shift and made sure I had plenty of food and books to keep me entertained before he left. He took Fergus with him, leaving me in the company of no one but the servants who were busy with their own work.</p><p>I was bored by nine o’clock.</p><p>Esmeralda was due to check in on me some time before lunch, so until then, I tried to fill my time with catching up on correspondence. I wrote a letter to Jenny, telling her all about the little orphan boy Jamie picked up at a brothel who had somehow become an essential part of the household. I wrote to Louise and Mary, letting them know of my medical restrictions and pleading for a visit. I even wrote to Mother Hildegarde, thanking her for allowing me to work at the hospital.</p><p>It was still only ten-thirty by the time I’d finished. Strange how easy it was to appreciate time alone when there was a dearth of it. In abundance, it was only a nuisance.</p><p>I picked up a book and stared at the words without reading them, daydreaming of days when I could turn on the radio or put on a record. How nice it would be to play some jazz while relaxing with Jamie after a long day of work. To dance in the moonlight with him to Edith Piaf singing <em>La Vie en rose</em> under the intoxicating buzz of a fine whisky.</p><p>“Milady!” Fergus interrupted my reverie with his panicked voice echoing from the hall. “Milady!”</p><p>“Fergus?” I sat up and moved to the edge of the bed as he ran in. “Are you alright?” For, clearly, something terrible happened by the look in his eyes.</p><p>“It is Milord! He needs us!” A knot immediately began forming in my stomach...</p><p>“What’s happened?”</p><p>“Milord took me with him this morning. He needed my help to ready himself. To fetch a whetstone for his blades...to pack food for him...to keep his rosary safe until he came back…” Fergus reached into his sark and pulled out the beaded necklace.</p><p>“The duel? He’s going to duel the Comte today?”</p><p>“Oui, Milady.”</p><p>“He told me it would take a week to arrange.”</p><p>“He didn’t want you to worry.”</p><p>I grabbed his shoulders, knowing Fergus had every faith in Jamie. There must have been a reason for the panic in his eyes. “Why does he need us, Fergus?”</p><p>He looked sheepishly at the floor. “He sent me home to look after you, to keep you safe. But...I went to Le Comte’s warehouse before coming home. I was going to put lice in his wig.”</p><p>“Lice? Where did you get lice? And why would you risk such a thing?”</p><p>“I wanted to give Milord all the advantage he could get! One of the foremen at Milord’s warehouse wears a wig, and he was infested with lice, and I thought I could…”</p><p>“Oh enough. What happened with Jamie?”</p><p>“When I got to the warehouse, Le Comte was leaving for the duel. He had half a dozen men with him, Milady! There armed with blades and pistols! Milord is going with none but Murtagh, and they only have their blades!”</p><p>“Oh God, Jamie!” Panic seized my heart, stealing the breath from my lungs.</p><p>When sense came to me, I jumped out of bed and dressed as quickly as I could, cursing the infuriating amount of layers that held me back from finding my husband. Fergus came to my aid, his far too experienced hands knew his way around women’s clothing as well as any grown man.</p><p>As he pulled my laces and tied them up, he said, “Milord took the carriage. The wheel has not yet been fixed on the second. We must find another way.”</p><p><em>Damn</em>. I sat down to put on my shoes, thinking of the fastest way to find a carriage. I couldn’t imagine it would be good for the baby to ride on horseback in my condition.</p><p>Fergus assisted with putting my shoe on the other foot.</p><p>“Louise! She lives three houses down. I’m sure they’ll have one we could borrow.”</p><p>“Oui, of course.”</p><p>I gathered my purse and a bag of medical supplies. “I’m sorry for getting you out of bed, Milady. I know it is not good for l'enfant.”</p><p>“You did the right thing, Fergus. We must find him in time. Do you know the location of the duel?”</p><p>“Oui, in a vineyard just outside the city. Milord has taken me there before.”</p><p>“Alright, come on then.” I grabbed his hand as we left in a flourish of my skirts.</p><p>A beautiful, cloudless sky stopped me in my tracks when we stepped outside, forcing me to squint my eyes to adjust after spending the last thirty-six hours indoors. The lovely Spring morning was completely at odds with the storm raging inside my head.</p><p>My feet pressed on, desperate to get to my husband. I remembered the words my future self wrote in that letter:</p><p>
  <em>“Please instruct Jamie that just because he knows he will live for another 60 years does not mean he is allowed to play fast and loose with his safety. There is a reason he lives so long...caution!”</em>
</p><p>My hand dropped to my womb...I was risking everything for the man I loved.</p><p>“Claire! Madame Fraser!”</p><p>I turned my head sharply to see a carriage stopped just outside our home.</p><p>“Esmeralda!” We backtracked our steps as quickly as we could.</p><p>“What are you doing out of bed?! Get back inside at once!”</p><p>“We need your carriage! Please. It’s an emergency.”</p><p>She was looking at me as though I had utterly lost my mind.</p><p>“My husband is in danger!”</p><p>She shook her head, her face pale with worry. “I’m sorry. I cannot let you leave. I’ll send my driver. He is a very capable man.”</p><p>“You will <em>not</em> stand in the way of me and my husband! If you knew anything about me, you'd know that you don't stand a change of keeping us apart. Now take me to him in your carriage, or I will find another way.”</p><p>Her blue eyes never left mine, and the fear never left hers. She raised her voice so it would carry to her driver. She spoke in a language I couldn’t comprehend.</p><p>I looked at her driver sitting high up on the carriage. He was an absurdly large man, a black cloak draping his form. He wore a tricorn, and his hair was clubbed back into a silk bag and decorated with a black ribbon. He responded to her in the same tongue. I wondered if it was some gypsy language.</p><p>She huffed a breath at whatever he said and muttered to herself, “Of course you do.” She held out a hand to me and spoke in her usual French, “Come, we’ll take you to your husband...but you must promise not to strain yourself.”</p><p>“Of course.” I’d promise anything to get to Jamie at that moment. “Fergus, sit up with the driver and tell him where to go.”</p><p>He bounded up, unable to hide his excitement at the prospect. I crawled into the carriage, and Esmeralda followed behind.</p><p>When we were finally on our way, I said. “Thank you for helping us. If I’m to be honest, there is some risk to you and your driver in helping us.”</p><p>She let out a quiet snicker and shook her head. “Do not worry about us, Claire. Just focus on your husband. Tell me, what has happened to him?”</p><p>Though caution reminded me that she was likely keeping her own secrets, I felt I owed her honesty in exchange for their assistance. I told her everything that led up to Jamie rushing off to duel the Comte...and everything we’d be facing when we got there.</p><p>I couldn’t decide if her lack of overt surprise was a comfort or if it was disconcerting. All she did was take several steadying breaths, open the carriage door while it was still in motion, and lean out the window to yell something to her driver in that strange tongue.</p><p>When she was back in her seat with the door closed, I asked, “What language were you speaking?”</p><p>She smirked, “Greek.”</p><p>“Is that where you’re from? Greece?”</p><p>She laughed, “No. I’m not from Greece.” She started digging through her medical bag looking for something specific. Twice she pulled out vials and inspected them before dropping them back in her bag and looking some more. The third vial she found seemed to meet with her approval.</p><p>“Where are you from?” I asked.</p><p>She grinned at me, “Is this what you’d like to do, Claire? Tell each other all our secrets? I’m sure you have a few that would shock even me.”</p><p>She uncorked the vial and handed it to me. “Take this...it will keep your muscles relaxed so you don’t strain yourself.”</p><p>I sniffed a pleasant herbaceous concoction, “What is it? Do I smell chamomile?”</p><p>“Oui. It will relax you, is all.”</p><p>I brought the vial to my lips, hesitating a moment…</p><p>Noticing my reluctance, she said, “Please, Claire...the baby needs you to stay calm.”</p><p>Her eyes were full of sincerity. I put a hand on my belly, hoping I was making a decent compromise for the little one. I couldn’t just stay home and let Jamie die; perhaps finding a way to remain calm would make this trip easier on the baby. I tipped the vial back and drank the contents down.</p><p>I sat back in my seat, pleased by the surprisingly sweet aftertaste in my mouth. I was certain I’d tasted such a thing before, but I just couldn’t place it.</p><p>A quick movement in front of me was followed by a sharp prick on my upper arm. I looked down to find Esmeralda had stabbed me with a needle and was pushing a plunger, injecting a strange substance into my arm.</p><p>“What on Earth are you doing?!”</p><p>“Shhh, it’s alright. Everything is going to be alright.”</p><p>Panic for Jamie’s fate, for the baby in my belly, for Fergus just outside, rolled in waves through my body. My body, however, was quickly losing its ability to do much of anything. Esmeralda pulled the needle from my arm, and pushed me back against my seat.</p><p>My eyes were struggling to focus, causing everything to blur when I tried to move them. I felt no pain, no discomfort, only fear...and betrayal. “What have you done to me?”</p><p>“I’ve just given you a little something to help you rest, Claire. I can’t have you losing this baby, do you understand?”</p><p>“<em>Jamie</em>…”</p><p>“Don’t worry. Everything will be alright. I promise.”</p><p>A wave of exhaustion stole over me. All my body wanted to do was rest, while my mind screamed for me to stay conscious.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Who...who are you?” I could hardly speak the words.</p><p>“I will tell you in good time.”</p><p>“Why are you...doing this?”</p><p>Her great, blue eyes were soft and filled with moisture. “Because...you asked me to.”</p><p>The drug she gave me must have been making me confused.</p><p>Her voice was echoing in my head as though coming through a long tunnel, “Trust me, Claire...Trust me.”</p><p>Time was completely distorted. As I faded in and out of consciousness, I tried with all my might to stay awake. I felt painless...like I was floating on the lovely, Spring breeze...no, on a cloud...</p><p>I shook off the sensation. An opiate. She must have given me an opiate.</p><p>Time evaded my grasp. I found it ironic that a time traveler couldn’t hold space in her mind for such a thing.</p><p>Soon, green trees and vineyards passed by the carriage, and I couldn't tell which was moving, the countryside or the carriage.</p><p>“Here we go,” said Esmeralda, getting her medical bag in order. “You must stay put, Claire. Do you understand? You must stay put for the baby.”</p><p>“Jamie…” I whispered.</p><p>Peering out the window, I tried to make out what I was seeing. There was a group of men...the carriage was headed straight for them. I thought I could hear Fergus yelling for Jamie.</p><p>
  
</p><p><em>Jamie</em>…</p><p>“Sit down, Claire!” Esmeralda grabbed me by the arms and sat me down...I hadn’t realized I had gotten up.</p><p>I looked out the window and saw a great, big man in black jump down from the carriage and pull out an enormous sword...the blade looked almost like it was rippling in the sunlight.</p><p><em>Damascus</em>...I thought to myself, pulling knowledge from old archaeology trips with Uncle Lamb.</p><p>The man tossed aside his tricorn hat, revealing the most beautiful red hair, glittering as magically as his blade. He was straight out of a dream.</p><p><em>Jamie</em>…</p><p>But there were two Jamies. The other was fighting back-to-back with Murtagh.</p><p>Which one was mine?</p><p>A mop of curly, brown hair ran into the fray. <em>Fergus</em>…</p><p>“Fergus...” My cry was only a whisper.</p><p>Esmeralda released me and yelled, “Jem! Uncail!”</p><p>One of Jamies rushed to guard the boy, but Fergus was fast and light on his feet. He had a small blade in his hand, dodging through the mess of swords and dirks and fists. He ran to the Comte and swung his scrawny arm up, aiming for under his rib cage, but not before the Comte turned and knocked him down with a blow to the head.</p><p>“Fergus!”</p><p>I thought it was me yelling...it was Esmeralda.</p><p>The Comte grabbed Fergus’s arm, swung his blade back, and struck down with all his might. He would certainly lose his hand...</p><p>Jamie parried the blow with his sword and struck the Comte under the ribs with his dirk, just where Fergus was aiming only a moment before. The Comte fell to the ground with a look of shock on his face.</p><p>Esmeralda was muttering beside me in a language I could recognize even in my groggy state...Gaelic. She was praying.</p><p>I shook my head again, trying to clear away the fog, but it just kept clinging to my brain like the filth around wee Jamie after a day in the fields with his uncle.</p><p>I looked up again to see a man throwing a blade at one of the Jamies. The other Jamie let out a fierce, Highland battle-cry, pushing the other out of the way. Murtagh stabbed the man who threw the blade, dropping him with one cut.</p><p>“Jemmy!” yelled Esmeralda. Leaving me behind. She bounded over to the fallen Jamie.</p><p>“Mandy!” he yelled from the ground, blood covering his chest.</p><p>I tried to move toward them...he needed a healer…</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Claire!” yelled the Jamie still on his feet. He was running in my direction.</p><p>I realized I was falling out of the carriage. Everything went black before I hit the ground.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Six</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Claire!”</p><p>Jamie dropped his blades and raced to the carriage, compressing his feet into the ground with every step to launch his body forward with the utmost velocity. Never in his life did he move so quickly. His love and his child were falling from feet off the ground only days after she was bleeding in the street.</p><p>All else was forgotten. He lost sight of the stranger who looked just like him save for a knife sticking out of his chest. He left a battered Fergus lying on the ground, hoping Murtagh would tend to him. He ignored the strange healer who somehow knew the man in black. His own injuries were disregarded in his panic. Nothing else mattered to Jamie in that moment as much as Claire.</p><p>He had to catch his wife. He promised to keep her safe.</p><p>Fearful of knocking into her body with the force of his own, he caught her just under her arms, keeping her belly from hitting the ground.</p><p>“Claire! Are ye alright, Sassenach?” Her eyes were closed, and she was unresponsive. He sat back on the ground, cradling her in his arms as terror filled him. “Claire! Wake up! Can ye hear me, mo ghraidh? Open yer eyes.”</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>He’d worried about losing their firstborn ever since receiving Claire’s warning from the future, but never did Jamie believe he’d lose Claire. Having met his calman geal at the abbey, he’d been certain she’d live a great long life at his side...but seeing her blood soak into the discarded newspaper on the stone streets of Paris only days before made him realize that future was not inevitable.</p><p>
  <em>Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,</em><br/>
<em>So do our minutes hasten to their end,</em><br/>
<em>Each changing place with that which goes before,</em><br/>
<em>In sequent toil all forwards do contend.</em>
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</p><p>The healer. He needed the healer.</p><p>“Esmeralda! Come! Quickly!”</p><p>Again, no response. He turned to see the healer bent over the injured man, tending to his knife wound. “Esmeralda! It’s Claire! She needs ye!”</p><p>“I canna!” she answered. “I’m a wee bit busy at the moment.”</p><p>Never having heard her speak anything but French before, he certainly didn’t expect to hear Scots. It would’ve knocked him back a few paces had he not already been sitting down.</p><p>Unwilling to accept the neglect of his wife—no matter who the injured man was—he stood up with Claire in his arms. She gave a groan as he adjusted her body, and a great relief spread through his heart. He realized her warm breath was on his skin, as slow and lazy as it flowed. He made his way to Esmeralda, keeping his stride smooth so as not to jostle Claire.</p><p>Murtagh was lifting Fergus into a sitting position only a few feet away. The boy’s eyes were reluctantly open.  He pressed the heel of his hand to his head.</p><p>They were all injured, Jamie knew. Fergus was hit in the head, Murtagh shot in the arm, and Jamie grazed on his leg. Even the footman of his carriage was shot dead in the crossfire the moment the Comte’s treachery was revealed.</p><p>The Comte and all his men littered the ground with their blood and bodies. Jamie stepped around them to come closer to the healer. He listened as she scolded her patient like a raging magpie.</p><p>“Ye bloody, thick-heided Scot. Twice in as many weeks I’ve had to stitch ye up. I’d wager my finest scalpel ye’ve gone and torn the stitches of yer other wound...only I canna check because ye’re bleeding from yer chest! Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, ye great, muckle fool!”</p><p>“Wheesht, lassie. Ye’ll do more damage than ye’re fixing wi’ all yer carrying on,” said the injured man. She’d gotten the knife out of his chest and was working on stopping the bleeding and closing the wound.</p><p>“Ye’re lucky the bastard’s knife stuck in a rib and didna slip between.”</p><p>“Hmphm...lucky, is it?”</p><p>This was the first time Jamie got a good look at the man. He was maybe a little older than Jamie himself, but still quite young. His resemblance was shocking. It wasn’t just the red hair, but his slanted, blue eyes, broad cheekbones, and wide mouth. And it wasn’t only his large size that was similar to Jamie’s, but the build of his broad shoulders and the way he swung a blade with his left hand. Whatever differences there were between the men, and he knew there had to be some, he struggled to pinpoint exactly what they were.</p><p>It was vastly unsettling.</p><p>“Could ye no’ have done something other than step in front of a flying blade?” The healer was still carrying on.</p><p>“Nay, Mandy. If it killed him, we wouldna even be here for ye to scold me.”</p><p>“Aye, but ye ken as well as I, ye would’ve done so had that no’ been the case.”</p><p>He laughed, “Ye say it like ’tis a bad thing, lass.”</p><p>“Hmphm,” she went on with her bandaging, clearly of the opinion he was a reckless and foolish brute.</p><p>Jamie knelt beside her with Claire in his arms and pleaded. “Please...I dinna ken what in heaven’s name is going on, nor who the twa of ye may be, but I need ye to tend to my wife. I canna wake her.”</p><p>The woman didn’t look away from her patient. She was focused, a professional, sewing up a wound like he’d seen his wife do more than a handful of times. “Dinna fash. I gave her something to rest so she wouldna be bounding around in a tizzy—as ye ken she’d do—trying to save ye when Jem and I could manage just fine. She’s breathing, aye? And her heart is steady?”</p><p>Jamie double-checked Claire’s vitals—as he heard her call them before. They felt like they did when she was in a deep sleep. He kissed the top of her head and held her firm. “Aye.”</p><p>“And she’s no’ bleeding? Ye ken...the bairn?”</p><p>Jamie laid Claire carefully on the ground. He pulled up his wife’s skirts and peered underneath to check for blood. “She’s alright,” he said in a relieved breath, more to himself than the healer.</p><p>“Good. I'm going to need yer help,” she said. “Yer wife will be just fine right there. I promise, she’ll no’ up and wander off.”</p><p>“Go on, then,” said Murtagh. Jamie hadn’t even noticed him approach. His godfather squatted down next to him and rested a hand on Claire’s forehead. “I’ll mind yer wife. Nay doubt that lad’s yer kin by the look of him...ye better tend to him.”</p><p>Jamie reassured himself once more that Claire was still alive by placing his lips on her mouth to feel the air flow through. Satisfied, he rested his hand briefly on her belly before moving closer to the all too familiar strangers.</p><p>“I’ll need help lifting the great fool,” she said.</p><p>Jamie grabbed the man under the torso and lifted as best he could without aggravating the wound even more. He was surprised by the weight of him. The healer worked quickly, wrapping bandages around his chest and tying them off with practiced hands.</p><p>“Ye’ve done this a fair few times?” he said, setting the man down.</p><p>“Aye...the family is prone to a bit of trouble.”</p><p>“Where did’ye learn yer trade?”</p><p>She looked up and smirked, black curls pulling loose from their pins, framing her French bones. He’d seen that expression a thousand times before on a brown-haired lass. But this woman’s sapphire eyes were the color of his own instead of yellow, and her complexion was ruddy-gold—like a Highlander—rather than Claire’s pearl.</p><p>And he knew, no matter how daft it may sound in his head, these two strangers were his. They must be his children. His and Claire’s. Time-traveling faeries like his wife, to be sure.</p><p>He reached out slowly, hesitantly, to touch the girl’s cheek...she shivered and flushed, but leaned into his hand. The look in her eyes one of deep affection.</p><p>“<em>Criosd</em>…” he breathed.</p><p>“He looks like you, Milord,” said Fergus, pulling Jamie’s attention away from the girl. He stood over the man, assessing him with narrowed eyes. “Only bigger.”</p><p>The man let out a pained chuckle from the ground.</p><p>“We ought to get moving,” said Murtagh. “If the King’s Guard are patrolling, we’ll all be sleeping in the Bastille.”</p><p>“Aye,” said Jamie. He asked the healer, “Is he alright to travel?”</p><p>“I dinna suppose we’ve much of a choice.”</p><p>The first thing Jamie and Murtagh did was load the body of the dead footman into the carriage and sent the driver to return him to the house. Jamie would need to deliver the body to his family at some point...an act he wasn’t looking forward to performing.</p><p>Returning to the healer and her patient, Jamie and Murtagh heaved the injured Scot to his feet and helped him into his carriage. Murtagh would have to drive with Fergus at his side. The healer and her wounded companion rode facing Jamie who was holding his sleeping wife in his arms.</p><p>Claire gave off a quiet snore that could only be heard by someone a hair’s breadth away. It was a comfort to Jamie as he held her and their unborn child possessively throughout the bumpy ride.</p><p>He eyed the familiar strangers warily. They were openly staring, unbothered by rules of etiquette in their gawking. It was as though they felt entitled to do so...like they’d done it their whole lives.</p><p>“Yer names?” Jamie asked.</p><p>“I’m Jeremiah,” the man said, holding his wound as he spoke. He seemed unaccountably shy. “Ye can call me Jem...or Jemmy...if ye like.”</p><p>“Amanda,” said the woman, smiling. It seemed as though she was pleased to no longer be lying about her identity. “Mandy.”</p><p>Desperate for answers but fearful of the truth, Jamie struggled with whether or not to wait for Claire to confirm his suspicions about who these people were.</p><p>“Ye speak French verra fine,” said Jamie. “I assumed ye both native speakers.”</p><p>“Aye,” said Jem. “We had an excellent teacher….taught us a few other languages, as well.”</p><p>“Do ye have the Latin, then? And Greek?”</p><p>“Aye. And Hebrew, Spanish, and Italian.”</p><p>“And the Gàidhlig?”</p><p>They both snorted. “Aye,” said Jem. “Of course we do.”</p><p>Jamie’s heart swelled. He looked down to Claire, wishing he could share this moment of paternal pride with his wife. She was still sound asleep. He placed his lips on her temple and stared at their family before him.</p><p>“Ye sure ye’re alright, lad?” Jamie asked Jem.</p><p>“Aye. ’Tis no’ but a scratch.”</p><p>Jamie snorted, remembering the blade flying through the air toward him before Jemmy pushed him out of the way.</p><p>“Dinna fash,” said Mandy. “The muckle fool is built as sturdy as you. He’ll be just fine.”</p><p>“Aye, I suppose so. He seems to have recovered from the sgian-dubh Fergus put in his back.”</p><p>“Hmphm,” Jemmy grunted in annoyance. “’Tis fortunate the wee laddie isna as strong as he is fast. The cut wasna so deep.”</p><p>“No’ so deep?” A sudden surge of delirium bubbled in Jamie’s chest at having such offspring. “Good God, his blade was dripping blood from hilt to tip! The only reason ye walked away that night is because Fergus misjudged where yer kidneys lie. Ye’re the biggest man he’d ever seen.”</p><p>“Aye,” Jemmy grinned, “I suppose I am, at that. Ye should see my Ma; ye’ve never seen a lass so tall.”</p><p>“Yer Ma?” Jamie’s heart sank, crushing in on itself. He looked down at the sleeping woman in his arms. Come to think of it, he didn’t see Claire, at all, in the young man—not like he did in Mandy. “Claire’s no’ yer Ma?”</p><p>Jemmy barked out a laugh, but grunted in pain almost as quickly. “Of course she’s no’ my Ma. She’s my Granny!”</p><p>“Yer Granny?” His heart stumbled a few beats, then raced to catch up. “What d’ye mean she’s yer Granny?”</p><p>Jemmy chuckled despite the obvious pain of his wound. “Ye thought ye were our Da?”</p><p>“Of course he did,” said Mandy. “Look at the twa of ye.”</p><p>“My grandchildren?” said Jamie, breathless. “I’m a grandsire?”</p><p>Jemmy grinned in confirmation.</p><p>“<em>Oh, Christ</em>…” A fierce wave of sentiment crashed into him, and his lungs stopped working. A year ago he thought he had naught to live for, and now he was staring into the sparkling, blue eyes of his robust legacy...the product of his life with Claire...a product of that fateful journey on his way back home from Paris a year before.</p><p>He adjusted Claire in his arms so he could wipe the tears falling from his eyes.</p><p>“Ye alright, Grandda?” asked Jem.</p><p>“Aye. Ye’re just a bit of shock. Both of ye.”</p><p>“I suppose we are.”</p><p>“Why?” The question that had been lingering in his mind finally came out. “Why in heaven’s name are ye here? Why have ye been sneaking in the shadows?” He looked at Mandy, “And why’ve ye been parading around as a healer this whole time?”</p><p>His grandchildren looked at each other, silently communicating with just their eyes. They nodded in some unspoken agreement.</p><p>Jemmy turned back to Jamie and said, “Ye sent us back for Uncle Fergus...and for Auntie Fai...” Mandy hit him before he finished his sentence. Jem groaned in pain and sucked in an agonized breath. It took him a moment to correct himself, “...and ye sent us back for the bairn.”</p><p>Jamie concluded long ago that they’d lost their child at some point in one of their many histories. This revelation was no great surprise to him.</p><p>“Ye’ll save my bairn, lass?”</p><p>She shrugged, “’Tis what Granny sent me to do. She’s taught me all she kent since I was a wean. I’ve delivered more babes than the finest midwives in Paris. Before sending us here, ye both made it sound as though it wasna a certainty whether or no’ I would succeed.”</p><p>As much as he wanted confirmation all would be alright, he nodded in acceptance. “Ye said the bairn was a lass? Ye called her Auntie.”</p><p>“Aye, he did,” said Mandy, annoyed. “Ye didna want us to tell ye much of yer future. Granny and ye insisted on being surprised.”</p><p>Jamie bent his forehead down to Claire’s, breathing her same air. When he closed his eyes, tears dropped down to his wife’s cheeks. He kissed her lightly, fearful of impeding her airway, but needing to direct his emotion somewhere.</p><p>When he looked back up to his grandchildren, his eyes were blurred with tears.</p><p>“Oh, Grandda,” said Mandy. Her voice held a sympathetic ache. “Here…” She pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his face and Claire’s.</p><p>When he was dry, he did his best to pull himself together. Clear eyes seemed to give him clarity of thought.</p><p>“And Fergus? Ye said we sent ye here for Fergus?”</p><p>“Aye,” said Jemmy. “Ye’re fond of him, I take it?”</p><p>Jamie didn’t hesitate. “He’s like a son to me. I’d give my life for him.”</p><p>Jem closed his eyes and sighed in relief. “Good. That’s good.”</p><p>“What d’ye mean we sent ye here for him? Why were ye following him around?”</p><p>“Now, I dinna ken all the details, but…” he swallowed audibly before going on, “yer auld self told me there was a time—just once from what ye kent—when ye thought ye might try to stop Charles Stuart from coming to Scotland. Ye were trying to save the Highlands.”</p><p>Jamie nodded. It wasn’t as though the thought hadn’t occurred to him in his long nights at Maison Elise. A few words of discouragement in the right place might save many lives...so far, he’s stayed out of it, but he couldn’t lie to himself that the temptation was not there...especially when he had a few drinks in him.</p><p>“After Mandy helped save Granny and the bairn,” continued Jem, “ye thought to yerself that if she could change the future, then ye might be able to save yer people, as well.”</p><p>“I suppose I failed in that venture?”</p><p>“And caused no little bit of trouble for yer efforts. It just so happens,” Jemmy continued, “that ye used a wee orphan pickpocket to help try to thwart The Bonnie Prince.”</p><p>“Fergus. That’s where I first met Fergus?”</p><p>“Aye. So when ye were auld, ye sent Mandy back to save yer bairn, and ye asked me to go wi’ her to warn ye away from interfering wi’ the lost Jacobite cause, no matter how appealing changing the future would look after watching Mandy and Granny do it so well. And ye asked me to find Fergus and bring ye together since ye wouldna need him to stop Charles Stuart. Ye told me to have him steal something from ye...that his skill and mettle would endear him to ye. Ye asked me to make sure the twa of ye had plenty of chances to find each other so ye could make him yer son.”</p><p>Jamie let out a pained sob, “Oh God.”</p><p>“Ye see,” said Mandy. “We couldna tell ye who we were until ye fell for Fergus all on yer own. Ye didna want us to demand ye love a stranger. Meeting the lad and growing to love him was one of the greatest memories of yer life.”</p><p>Mandy handed him the handkerchief so he could clear his eyes and blow his nose. He was surprised when she took it back from him in its filthy state...a gesture typically reserved for only the closest of family.</p><p>He looked at his grandchildren before him, unable to stop the tears. “Ye did all this just because we asked ye? Ye risked yerselves...took the time away from yer lives...for us...and our children?”</p><p>She nodded. “We’d do anything for ye Grandda. And we love Uncle Fergus and our Auntie, as well. We’d do anything for them, too.”</p><p>Once again, he lost his breath.</p><p>He looked down at his pregnant wife and back up to Mandy and Jemmy. Suddenly, his whole body shook with giddy laughter. “Dear God, I canna wait to see yer Granny’s face when she finds out who ye are!”</p><p>_______________</p><p>“<em>Granny</em>?” said Claire, her mouth hanging open in shock. “No! I’ve yet to be a mother, I <em>cannot</em> be a Granny!”</p><p>Jamie couldn’t help his laughter. He was holding her hands and sitting at her bedside. He reached up and caressed her cheek as he assured her, “’Tis all true, mo nighean donn. Every word.”</p><p>Claire’s eyes stayed steady on his as her brain tried to wrap itself around their extraordinary situation. She found whatever it was she needed in his gaze to gain acceptance.</p><p>“Ye see us in them, d’ye no’?” he said.</p><p>Her eyes moved to Amanda sitting at the foot of the bed and to Jemmy who was laid back on the love seat not far away. She snorted at the sight of their injured grandson.</p><p>“If his face didn’t resemble yours so much, the bloody injury certainly does.” She addressed Jemmy, “Did I ever tell you how I met your...grandfather?”</p><p>“Aye,” Jem grinned, “ye have.” He looked down at his wound, “I guess this is only poetic, then?”</p><p>Claire turned to their granddaughter, “Why the name Esmeralda?”</p><p>“Weel, I couldna go parading about as Amanda in 1740’s France wi’out ye growing suspicious, ken. My name only became fashionable in the twentieth century. But I’ve got too much bloody Highlander and Sassenach in my blood to pass for purely a Frenchwoman, even if I’m able to speak the language as well as Grandda. I figured ye’d associate my name wi’ the French gypsy woman in the story ye told me as a bairn.”</p><p>Jamie stared at their granddaughter’s black, curly hair and bright, blue eyes. He wondered where the lass got the shape of those eyes. They were neither his nor Claire’s. Maybe from her father.</p><p>“That’s how you knew the way the line was delivered in the film?”</p><p>“Aye,” her eyes drifted off to a memory in her mind. “I dinna think I could say the line any other way than how ye used to bellow it during our bedtime stories. <em>Sanctuary! Sanctuary!</em> I left the house that day thinking I gave myself away.”</p><p>“Yer Granny was curious how ye came to ken that part of the story. It didna slip by her,” said Jamie.</p><p>Claire reached out to Mandy so the girl would come closer. Jamie stepped back and let Mandy take his place. Claire grabbed her hand with a fierce motherly affection. “So you’ve been immersing yourself in the hospital, waiting for the moment my recklessness would demand you come save us?”</p><p>“No’ just the hospital. The apothecary, as well. I kent that’s where I could best find ye when ye arrived in Paris. And I kent the Comte would send that fool to come poison ye. The owner of the shop has a fondness for me...and you. When I wasna at the hospital, I was at the shop waiting for the bastard to come asking for a poison. I gave him the bitter cascara instead.”</p><p>“It’s lucky you were there at the same time as he was.”</p><p>Mandy shrugged, “Nay. Maître Raymond agreed that if I missed the Comte’s man, he would be sure to switch the cascara for the poison in my stead.”</p><p>Overcome with emotion, Claire wiped a tear falling down her cheek and shook her head in disbelief. “All that time we spent together...all that time I was admiring your skill with patients...admiring your care of me…”</p><p>“Ye taught me all I ken, Granny. Every woman and child I helped at that hospital was thanks to yer teaching.”</p><p>Claire’s eyes went wide, “The woman who was dying...the one with the infection…?”</p><p>Mandy nodded, “Aye. I gave her penicillin throughout the night.”</p><p>“Mother Hildegarde thought it was our prayers that saved her.”</p><p>“Weel, the prayers brought a time-traveling healer to her bedside, did they no’? I suppose the Mother wasna so wrong.”</p><p>“My God.” Claire let out a laugh of resignation. “And I thought falling through the stones last year would be the greatest shock of my life.”</p><p>“Oh Granny,” said Jem, “I’m none so sure ye’ve had the greatest shock of yer life quite yet.”</p><p>“What on Earth do you mean?”</p><p>Jemmy was grinning, full of mischief. “Oh…’tis no’ for me to ruin a surprise.”</p><p>“Keep yer trap shut, ye great fool. Ye ken they didna want us to spill anything more than necessary,” said Mandy.</p><p>“Wheesht, lass. I didna say anything of consequence.”</p><p>Mandy looked to Jamie, “I should be getting Jem into his own bed to contain his foolishness while that wound heals.” As hard a time as she gave her brother, Jamie could see the concern in her eyes. Jemmy did have a slight grayish pallor to his face at the moment.</p><p>“Oh, aye. Suzette has rooms ready for both of ye.”</p><p>Jamie went to Jemmy’s side to help him stand. They waited a moment for Mandy to come with them; she was held up briefly by a fierce embrace from her grandmother.</p><p>Claire pulled back to look Mandy over once more. She gathered a wild lock of her granddaughter’s curly hair and held it up between them. “I’m sorry, but I think I might be responsible for this,” she snorted. “But it’s very beautiful on you, darling.”</p><p>“Oh, ’tis a hassle to tame, but I’ve always been partial to the curls. Minds me so much of you.” She stroked her Granny’s hair and kissed her on the cheek. It was with obvious reluctance and only a great deal of concern for her brother that she pulled herself away. She stood and smoothed her skirts they way Jenny and Claire always did when they were pulling themselves together. “Now, I dinna want to see ye getting out of bed, ye hear?”</p><p>“Understood,” Claire saluted.</p><p>Jemmy winked—with two eyes—and waved to his Granny as enthusiastically as his injury would allow before turning with Jamie and limping for the door. Mandy followed just behind.</p><p>Claire’s voice stopped them just as they were exiting the room. “Thank you, my darlings!”</p><p>Jamie turned to see her wiping more tears from her eyes. “Thank you for all you’ve done for our family.”</p><p>“’Tis is our family, too,” said Jem. “We wouldna have it any other way.”</p><p>____________________</p><p>Jamie disrobed down to his shirt before getting into bed that night. Claire turned to him as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.</p><p>“You should’ve told me you were dueling today,” she chided.</p><p>“Hmphm.” It would’ve only worried her more. “How did ye ken about it?”</p><p>“Oh, Fergus went to sabotage the Comte by putting lice in his wig and found him preparing for a small battle rather than a duel. He was worried about you.”</p><p>“He’s a good lad.”</p><p>Her golden eyes looked up full of softness. “Our lad, so it seems.”</p><p>A tightness gripped his chest. “Aye...Ours.”</p><p>“He’ll want to come with us, won’t he? Back to Scotland?”</p><p>“I’m sure of it. We’re his family now.”</p><p>“And what a family it is...or it will be.”</p><p>He chuckled, “Aye. Dear God, our grandchildren, Sassenach. I can hardly believe it.”</p><p>She put a hand over her belly. “Do you think they belong to this baby?”</p><p>“No. When ye were sleeping, Jemmy let it slip that's his auntie ye’re carrying in there.”</p><p>“A daughter?” Her eyes misted over as she cradled her womb.</p><p>“We’ll have at least two daughters, Sassenach. Wee Jemmy is none so good at secrets. He said his Ma is our daughter, as well.”</p><p>“Two daughters?”</p><p>“At least.”</p><p>“That’s if everything goes to plan,” she corrected. “From what they were telling us...we have changed the future more than once. Things aren’t always the same every time I go back.”</p><p>“Aye.” He ran his fingers through her wild hair. “I dinna understand how it all works, but it seems clear we’ve spent many lifetimes crafting this particular version for ourselves.”</p><p>Her eyes glittered as she smiled, “That we’ve loved our life so dearly, we made such an intricate plan to see it happen over and over.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“’Tis the least I would do for ye, my Sassenach,” he dropped his hand to her belly, “and for the bairn...and Fergus.”</p><p>Their lips met gently. Her breath was shaky as she exhaled. “So, the Comte is dead?”</p><p>“Aye.”</p><p>“Fergus and Murtagh are well?”</p><p>“They’re a wee battered, but well enough.”</p><p>“And Mandy patched up everyone’s wounds?”</p><p>“She has.”</p><p>“We’re all ok?”</p><p>“Save for the footman,” he sighed. His joy over his own family made him feel all the more guilty over the loss of his man. “I must return his body to his family soon.”</p><p>“Do you think there’s something we could tell Jemmy and Mandy when we send them back next time that might spare the footman’s life?”</p><p>“I dinna ken, Sassenach. Ye’re the time traveler. I worry that the more things we change, the more things have a chance to go wrong. What if telling Jem about the footman causes Murtagh to be the one to die next time? Or Fergus? Or you? Sending Jeremiah and Amanda back to save our bairn and bring us Fergus is one thing, but to have them interfering wi’ others is something else. Ye heard what Jem said about things going to pot when I tried to interfere wi’ Charles Stuart?”</p><p>And as guilty as Jamie felt about the footman, he’d sacrifice a thousand men for his family.</p><p>“Well,” said Claire, “we have a whole lifetime to figure out what we’re going to do. We don’t have to make any decisions right now.”</p><p>“Aye,” though his decision was already made...damn the consequences.</p><p>They both lay in each other’s arms, blood pumping and thoughts racing, too restless for sleep.</p><p>“Aren’t they magnificent?” she whispered. “She’s such a fine healer. You should see her with a needle and thread, Jamie. I’ve never seen a stitch so neat.”</p><p>“Aye, I watched her stitch up Jemmy. She got as fine a hand as her Auntie Jenny wi’ a needle, though I’m none so sure Jenny could do such stitching on a man’s flesh.”</p><p>“And how Jemmy wielded that blade! I thought I was seeing double, watching the two of you together.”</p><p>Jamie laughed, “It felt like I was fighting wi’ my Uncle Dougal again, though the lad is even better than Dougal ever was.”</p><p>Claire kissed him again, releasing his lips only to rest her forehead against his. “How many surprises can we handle like this in a lifetime, Jamie?”</p><p>“As many as God should bestow, mo chridhe.” He kissed her again and stared into her eyes. Vibrating with excitement, neither would sleep much that night. And that was fine by them...no dream could measure up.</p><p>_______________</p><p>“Come on,” Claire laughed at her grandchildren several days later. They were sitting with her on her bed as Jamie watched from the chair by the window. “Isn’t there anything you can tell me? Give me something fun to look forward to.”</p><p>Jemmy pleaded with his sister, “Come on, Mandy, just a wee keek into her future. The puir woman is stuck in a bed all day; let me give her something to cheer her a bit.”</p><p>“There’s a good lad,” said Claire. “You must’ve learned long ago that indulging your Granny’s whims would pay off.”</p><p>“Aye. Ye always did let me eat the batter off the spoon when ye were making molasses cookies, and then ye’d sneak me a few extra cookies under the table when my Ma wasna looking.”</p><p>“Stop that now!” Mandy cuffed him on the shoulder. Jamie noticed Jemmy no longer flinched in pain when Mandy struck him. His wound must’ve been healing fine. “Granny, he’s just trying to get ye to cave. Ye didna like us eating the raw batter because of the germs.”</p><p>Jemmy winked at Claire conspiratorially, as though it was their little secret.</p><p>“Well, if you don’t want to share something about me,” said Claire, “then tell me something about yourselves. Something harmless.”</p><p>Mandy seemed to find it difficult to go against her Granny’s wishes. She was at war with herself over which of her Grannies she should listen to, the young one in front of her or the old one she loved her whole life.</p><p>“Weel...I suppose it wouldna hurt to tell ye about my Esmeralda.”</p><p>Jemmy rolled his eyes. “She wants to ken about something more juicy than yer wee doll.”</p><p>“Shut it, Jem. ’Tis all she’s going to get out of me, so shove off.” Mandy turned to a smiling Claire.</p><p>Jamie could hardly breathe watching the three of them together. He certainly couldn’t speak. He just watched and listened.</p><p>“My godmother stitched me a wee doll from an auld red dress ye said ye wore here in Paris. I carried that doll wi’ me everywhere I went until the stitching finally gave way.” Mandy squeezed Claire’s hand, “I called her Esmeralda, for the lady in yer story.”</p><p>“My red dress from Paris?”</p><p>Jamie snorted and finally found his words, “I dinna imagine ye’ll have occasion to wear that one again, Sassenach.”</p><p>“And who is your godmother?”</p><p>Mandy smiled warmly at Claire’s belly.</p><p>“Oh…” Claire caressed the child.</p><p>“To see ye like this, Granny…” Mandy sucked in a breath. “Yer whole life ahead of ye. Ye’ve no idea how much ye mean to me...to our family...to our people.”</p><p>“Oh darling, come here.” She enveloped her in her arms, a tangled mess of black and brown hair.</p><p>They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Suzette announced that Louise had stopped by for a visit.</p><p>Mandy pulled herself together and stood up. “Ye’ll call for me if ye’re no’ feeling well?”</p><p>“Of course. You’re welcome to stay if you like.”</p><p>Mandy cringed at the idea of entertaining a French noblewoman.</p><p>“We’d love to stay, but we’d rather face the guillotine,” said Jemmy. He leaned over and blew a loud raspberry on his young Granny’s cheek.</p><p>“Oh you little...” Claire laughed, pushing him away.</p><p>“Hey, Jem,” said Jamie. “Come to my study for a moment, aye?” He had a few things he needed to talk to his...<em>grandson</em>...about. He thought it best to speak to him without Amanda present, seeing as how he’d likely get more information out of him without his sister interfering.</p><p>“Aye.”</p><p>Jamie noticed the way Jemmy bowed his head in near reverent deference when he nodded. His heart swelled in wonder of what they’d been through together to earn such a gesture.</p><p>On their way out, they passed Louise who had to turn sideways to make it through the door in her wide-hipped dress. Her eyes nearly crossed when she saw Jamie and Jemmy side by side.</p><p>“<em>Oh mon Dieu!</em>” she exclaimed. “Twins?”</p><p>“A cousin here for a visit. Jeremiah, Louise de la Tour.”</p><p>Jemmy bowed elegantly, clearly not his first time around nobility. “A pleasure, madame.”</p><p>“Jared did not tell me he had two such handsome, strapping cousins!”</p><p>“Jeremiah is from my mother’s side. A MacKenzie.”</p><p>Jemmy snorted quietly, the corner of his mouth turned up in humor.</p><p>“Meet me in the study, Jem. I’ll just get Madame de la Tour settled.”</p><p>Jemmy bowed and left Jamie to lead Louise to Claire’s bedside. She rushed to her friend as Jamie decided which chair would best accommodate Louise’s wide dress.</p><p>“Oh, Claire, mon ami! Tell me you are well.”</p><p>“I’m fine, Louise. And so is the baby.”</p><p>“I’m relieved to hear. But you’re stuck in this bed for months!”</p><p>“Oh, I’ll survive. Thank you for coming.”</p><p>Louise made a distinct French sound that dismissed Claire’s gratitude as though visiting was as much for her as for Claire.</p><p>“And where is Mary? Is she well?”</p><p>Louise giggled in her theatrical way. Jamie pushed the love seat next to the bed and offered a hand for Louise to sit down.</p><p>“Merci,” she thanked him before prattling on. “You will not believe what that audacious, little minx has done!”</p><p>“Mary? Audacious?”</p><p>“Oui! She ran off with that boy from the palace! A secretary of some Englishman! They were wed last night, and her family has disinherited her.”</p><p>“She didn’t!”</p><p>Louise sighed, “Fool of a child.” The way she said the words made Jamie think Louise admired the girl. Jamie found himself quite impressed as he closed the door behind him to give them privacy.</p><p>He went down the stairs to his study and found Jemmy chatting with wee Fergus.</p><p>“I am sorry, Monsieur. I did not know who you were when I tried to kill you.”</p><p>Jemmy laughed and ruffled his hair. “God, please, dinna call me Monsieur. Ye’re my godfather for Christ's sake!”</p><p>“Godfather? Your godfather?” The delight in Fergus’s eyes was infectious.</p><p>“Aye, laddie. And a good one, too. Ye’ll teach me how to pick pockets and swindle gamblers when I come to visit ye when ye live in Edinburgh for a bit.”</p><p>"Oui?”</p><p>Jamie interjected with authority. “Dinna be teaching the weans to pick pockets lad!  Ye'll no' be a criminal any longer.  Ye'll be heading to university when ye're of age to find a respectable profession.”</p><p>“But...Milord…” he protested.</p><p>"Jamie raised a stern eyebrow that silenced him immediately. Jemmy couldn’t hide his chuckle.</p><p>“Off wi’ ye, then,” said Jamie. “I’ve much to discuss wi’ yer...<em>godfather</em>.”</p><p>Fergus turned to Jem. “When you are finished with Milord, perhaps we can go to Maison Elise and continue your instruction on the finer points of…”</p><p>Jamie picked up a rolled parchment on rapped him harmlessly on the head. Fergus ran, grinning his way out the door.</p><p>“Oh, the stories I’ll be telling my Auntie about him as a lad.” Jemmy chuckled to himself. “I didna believe he was quite so feral as ye’d claimed. He’s all the more so.”</p><p>“Oh aye.  Resourceful wee laddie.”</p><p>Jem snorted. “Aye. He’s a verra bright man, Uncle Fergus.”</p><p>“I ken that. ’Tis no’ his mind I’m worried about, but his hands.”</p><p>Jemmy grabbed Jamie’s shoulder. “Ye’ll do well by him...and he by you. Ye’ll be proud to call him yer son.”</p><p>“I already am.”</p><p>“Aye,” Jemmy patted his arm and stepped back, smiling, “so I see.”</p><p>Jemmy took the seat across from Jamie’s desk. The lad was braw...long limbs, all great strength and coordination.</p><p>“Ye’re a strapping, young man,” Jamie said with pride, leaning against the edge of the desk. “Ye take after my Ma’s side, to be sure. Did’ye ever meet my Uncle Dougal?”</p><p>The humor that seemed to reside perpetually in Jemmy’s eyes lost some of its light. “No. I didna get a chance to meet him.”</p><p>It occurred to Jamie that Dougal was a passionate Jacobite. “The Rising?”</p><p>Jem looked down, “I’m sorry, Grandda, but I swore to ye I wouldna speak of such things. I’ve already let ye ken too much.”</p><p>“I see.”</p><p>“I understand from what ye told me as a lad, I’ve Dougal to thank for my skill wi’ a blade? He taught ye all ye kent...and then ye taught it all to me.”</p><p>“Aye,” He couldn’t help his smile, though his thoughts were still on his uncle. “And ye’re a braw hand wi’ a blade, lad. Ye gave me quite a run that night on the street, and I wasna holding back on ye.”</p><p>“Aye, I ken.” He rubbed his back tenderly.</p><p>“I’ll take ye out to cross blades soon, if ye like. ’Tis no’ verra often I’ve someone wi’ yer skill in which to practice.”</p><p>“Aye. I’d like that. My Uncles are getting too old to keep up anymore. I could use the competition.”</p><p>“Uncles?” Jamie raised an eyebrow. “As in more than one?”</p><p>“Ah, Christ,” he covered his face with a hand. “Dinna tell Mandy or Granny, will ye? My sister will have my heid.”</p><p>“Dinna fash. It’ll stay between us.”</p><p>“And dinna ask me anymore questions about how many children ye’ll be having or their names and such. Yer auld self warned me that ye kent me to be weaker than Mandy in keeping secrets. ’Tis what ye want, Grandda, I swear it.”</p><p>“Alright then. I’ll ask ye no more about it.”</p><p>Jemmy sighed with relief, his body visibly relaxing.</p><p>“But there are a few other things I need to ken, aye?”</p><p>“Look, ye’ve sent me with instructions on what I can and canna tell ye.”</p><p>“What did I say was alright to share?”</p><p>“Most of it I’ve told ye already. All that’s left is just two bits of advice.” He held up one finger, “First, dinna let anyone ye love near the Rising. Keep yer people away from Culloden Moor.”</p><p>“Aye. I’ve figured as much. What else should I ken?”</p><p>Jemmy held up his second finger, grinning with mischief, “Ye wanted me to tell ye a wee story about a Frenchman and his treasure…”</p><p>________________</p><p>The grandchildren planned to stay for the birth of the baby and to see Jamie and Claire safely back to Scotland. They’d return home at Craigh Na Dun come Samhain. Fergus already swiped them several precious gems from unsuspecting customers at Maison Elise for their safe travel home.</p><p>The bliss of Jamie’s life over the next several months, surrounded by his pregnant wife and their legacy, was unparalleled. He was committed to ensure this life was never compromised. He didn’t understand how traveling through time worked, but he couldn’t allow anything to get in the way of his very own Heaven on Earth. He cemented his plans to send his grandchildren back in time when he himself grew old.</p><p>With only weeks left before she would have the baby, Jamie capitalized on the limited time he’d have his wife all to himself. He sat back against the headboard, holding Claire from behind. She was reading a book aloud, her hair tickling his nose anytime she spoke with enthusiasm.</p><p>
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</p><p>He listened to words he’d memorized long ago:</p><p>“<em>And yet I wish but for the thing I have.</em><br/>
<em>My bounty is as boundless as the sea,</em><br/>
<em>My love as deep. The more I give to thee,</em><br/>
<em>The more I have, for both are infinite.</em>”</p><p>He stroked his hands up and down her belly and rained kisses on her shoulders. She moaned a sultry sound at his attentions.</p><p>Their baby was moving in her mother’s womb as though performing a ballet. Jamie couldn’t tell if he was feeling a head or a bottom or feet or elbows. All he knew was his daughter was strong and braw with how determined she moved under his hands.</p><p>The book Claire was reading dropped to the bed beside them. She leaned her head to the side to give him her neck. He kissed down her soft skin, near transparent with lack of sunshine.</p><p>“I cannot wait to make love to you again,” she said. “I miss your weight on me.”</p><p>“Mmm. I miss my cock inside ye.” His hands traveled up to her breasts. He was careful not to pinch her nipples. In the last few weeks they’d become so sensitive, she would either become overcome with want or flinch away in pain. He didn’t care to torture her either way...at least not until her body was healed from having his bairn.</p><p>Her hand reached behind her and found his cock. He groaned in aching need. “Sassenach,” he chided.</p><p>“Oh, don’t worry. I’m allowed to touch you without putting our baby at risk.”</p><p>“Aye, but ’tis no’ verra gentlemanly to be using ye for my own ends when ye’re suffering because ye’re carrying my bairn.”</p><p>He grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away, pinning it down on the bed.</p><p>“If you think that’s making me any less aroused, you are sadly mistaken.” Her voice was low and hoarse, making Jamie’s cock protest at its neglect.</p><p>He reluctantly released her, but moved his arm to make it clear he was guarding any path her hands might take to make it back to his cock. She sighed in exasperation and gave up. She picked up her book once again and tried to find the page she left off.</p><p>She never found it. Instead, she dropped the book once more and looked over her shoulder.</p><p>“Have you thought of any names for our daughter?”</p><p>“Dozens,” he grinned.</p><p>“Well, you’re limited to five. I imagine myself having to write them all down just to keep track of their order, and then have to pull out the parchment every time I introduce her to someone new.”</p><p>“How about you, Sassenach? D’ye have any preferences?”</p><p>“Not really. So many of the names I’ve come up with wouldn’t work well in this time.”</p><p>He snorted, “Like <em>Mandy</em>?”</p><p>She laughed along, but stopped abruptly. “Jamie? You don’t think one of our children goes to the future, do you?”</p><p>“What d’ye mean?”</p><p>“Where else would Mandy get such a name?”</p><p>He fought back his tension, “Dinna fash, Claire. Our children have yet to even be born. Let’s no’ worry about where they’ll travel to when they’re grown quite yet.”</p><p>She sighed heavily. “You’re right. I just never thought that after all we’ve done to make <em>this</em> life that our children might want to leave it.”</p><p>“Hmphm.”</p><p>Jamie set to work on rubbing the tension out of her neck. “I’m sure it’ll be just fine, Sassenach...otherwise, we’ll have some great-great grandchildren come fix it for them.”</p><p>She sat up, pulling away, and turned around. “I’m bored and anxious and restless, Jamie. I need a distraction.”</p><p>“A distraction? Ye want me to read to ye? Tell ye a story?”</p><p>She shook her head and smirked.</p><p>“Ye want me to sing to ye?”</p><p>“God no.”</p><p>He traced the curve of her face with his fingertips. “What is it ye want from me, lass?”</p><p>She bit her lip, and her eyes dropped down.</p><p>“Nay, mo chridhe. No good can come of that.”</p><p>“I beg to differ. And I am the healer; I would know.”</p><p>Her hand traced up his thigh and slipped under his shirt. He stopped her before it reached its destination. “Sassenach. <em>No</em>.”</p><p>“I thought you once said you’d give me anything I asked for?”</p><p>“No’ at the expense of your life or my bairn.”</p><p>She rolled her eyes. “I think I can refrain from orgasming. As fond of your cock as I am, I just don’t have the nerve endings in my hands or mouth to make that happen.”</p><p>“I wouldna feel good about it, no’ when ye’re the one growing my child and having to do wi’out.”</p><p>“Jamie,” she said sternly. She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him close. She kissed him firmly, biting his lip before she released him. “If I want my husband, it is his marital duty to let me have him.”</p><p>“Hmphm. I dinna think that’s what was meant by our vows.”</p><p>“You said you’d love, honor, and protect me.”</p><p>“Aye.”</p><p>“Well, doesn’t the protection include my pride?” She kissed him again, this time reaching under his shirt. “You’re not actually going to reject me, are you?”</p><p>Her hand reached his cock as her tongue slipped in his mouth. He attempted to stop her from stroking him, but when his hand rested on hers, he couldn’t seem to pull it away. He could tell by the curve of her mouth she knew her will was greater than his at the moment.</p><p>“Claire,” he groaned, one last attempt to do right by her. She swallowed the sound of her name on his lips. He lay back against his pillows as her lips traveled down. “Blessed Mother, forgive me,” he prayed.</p><p>He forgot all about his reluctance by the time his cock was in her mouth.</p><p>_________________</p><p>
  
</p><p>“<em>Focus</em>, Grandda!” said Jemmy. “I dinna want to bring ye back to Granny missing a limb!”</p><p>“Hmphm.” Jamie’s heart was racing at how close Jemmy’s sword had come to cutting off his hand. He was thinking about Claire and worrying that she’d have the baby while he was out practicing with Jem. She was over her expected date to deliver the bairn. Claire sent him off with Jemmy because he was hovering so much he was making her nervous.</p><p>Jemmy stabbed his blade down into the ground in resignation. “It was worth a shot.”</p><p>Jamie followed suit, sitting down to catch his breath. Jem said next to him and patted him on the back. “It’ll happen soon, aye? That wean is running out of room in Granny’s belly. She’ll be eager to meet ye both.”</p><p>“Aye.” He looked at his grandson. “How about yerself? Ye have any bairns? Am I a great grandda?”</p><p>Jemmy snorted, “Ye warned me ye’d ask such things. Ye threatened to cut my tongue out wi’ yer sword if I answered.” He gestured to the Damascus blade.</p><p>“<em>My</em> sword?” Jamie eyed the wavy pattern of metal made by being folded over on itself during forging. “Where will I obtain such a fine blade?”</p><p>Jemmy shook his head, biting back a smile. He wasn’t going to budge today.</p><p>“Hmphm. I’ll remember this when ye’re born, ken? No molasses cookies for ye until yer grown!”</p><p>Jemmy just laughed and handed over the blade for Jamie to inspect. It fit his grip perfectly and was exquisitely balanced.</p><p>“Ye love that blade,” said Jem. “That ye trusted me to use it to protect this family...to bring us all together means everything to me. Ye’ll never ken just how much...”</p><p>“It pleases me to hear ye speak so.” He set the blade down and put a hand on Jem’s shoulder. “Not long ago, I thought my life doomed to loneliness, misery, and disfigurement. Never did I dream of such a full life...of such a fine grandson.”</p><p>Jemmy's ears turned bright red.  “So, what changed?  What brought ye hope?”</p><p>A satisfying ache gripped Jamie’s heart. “Yer Granny...of course. She saved my soul.”</p><p>Jemmy smiled. “I can see that. It’ll always be that way between ye, ye ken. I’m sure I’m no’ supposed to say so, but ’tis true.”</p><p>“Aye. I dinna need a time traveler to tell me it will be so. But...I hope verra much that ye find someone to love as I do her.”</p><p>Jem elbowed Jamie in the side. “I suppose ye’ll just have to wait and see.”</p><p>_________________</p><p>Two days later, Jamie was sitting with Jemmy yet again. Murtagh and Fergus were with them this time as they waited impatiently for word from Mandy.</p><p>Murtagh held out a bottle of whisky, but Jamie turned it away. Too much could go wrong...he wouldn’t allow himself to get drunk.</p><p>“Milady will be alright,” Fergus reassured him. “I’ve seen plenty of whores give birth. The first child just takes longer than the next.”</p><p>Jamie snorted. He stood to try to relieve his restless energy.</p><p>“Dinna start pacing again, lad,” grumbled Murtagh. “Ye’ll make me dizzy.”</p><p>Jamie didn’t listen. He couldn’t listen. His wife was in pain, his child was vulnerable, and there was nothing he could do about it. His helplessness was driving him mad.</p><p>During his forty-seventh turn behind his desk, Suzette came rushing in the room. Jamie’s heart stopped as he listened for news.</p><p>“Madame wishes you do join her, Seigneur.”</p><p>“Did she have the bairn?” he asked.</p><p>“Not yet. She...wants you by her side. The healer says the baby will come soon.”</p><p>“Childbirth is no place for a man, lad!” Murtagh yelled after Jamie as he raced up the stairs, grateful he was no longer forced to sit idly by.</p><p>Jamie had helped dozens of horses give birth and many goats and cattle besides; there was no reason he shouldn’t be there for his own child.</p><p>When he arrived to the room, Claire was grunting, and Mandy was counting down. Jamie was at Claire’s side in moments, holding her hand and kissing her temple. When Mandy reached zero, Claire sighed in relief, melting into his embrace.</p><p>“Is all well, a nighean?” he asked Mandy.</p><p>“Aye, she’s braw. She’ll push again in a moment.”</p><p>Claire was breathing heavy, focused internally. Jamie reached around her back to find her other hand that was strangling the sheets. She let them go and held onto Jamie.</p><p>Jamie soon caught on to Mandy’s pattern of counting through contractions and was breathing and grunting alongside his wife as she pushed and rested, pushed and recovered. She wasn’t a screamer, like many he'd heard before. She just groaned and hummed through the pain.</p><p>As time stretched on, he could feel her increasing exhaustion and fatigue. He spoke to her in a quiet Gaelic, fearful of saying the wrong thing. She seemed heartened by his soft mutterings, so he kept them going with the rise and fall of her pain.</p><p>When the child came, everything happened in a rush. There were moments of time that just seemed to slow with significance...Mandy gasping and lifting their daughter for both to see...the child’s first cries reaching his ears...Claire holding the bairn for the first time, the tone of her voice changing, ringing like bells on small shop doors.</p><p>Decades later, Jamie would remember the feel of the slick, warm, little body that squirmed messily in her mother’s arms as Amanda grabbed a cloth to wipe the baby down. He would remember the shock of copper, fuzzy hair that stood on end once it was clean. He would remember losing sight of his lassies only in the moments he wiped the tears from eyes.</p><p>He stood frozen, useless, doing nothing but watching and listening and touching his wife and child.</p><p>
  
</p><p>It wasn’t until Claire pulled out her breast—with the aid of Mandy—and was able to get the baby to latch on, that time started moving at its normal pace once again. With one arm around his wife and the other stroking his daughter’s cheek, he finally began to breathe.</p><p>They were both alive. They both survived.</p><p>_______________</p><p>Jamie cringed as Mandy poked Claire in the arse with her long needle, pushing the penicillin into her body. Their baby was asleep in his arms, bundled in a blanket made of the softest fur, unable to see the disconcerting sight before them. He stroked her plump, little cheek and hummed quietly while he watched over Claire.</p><p>“Dinna fash,” Mandy assured him. “Granny told me to watch out for a retained placenta and a resulting infection, but since Granny was able to carry the baby to term, her placenta expelled with nay problem. This wee shot is only precaution, ken?”</p><p>“Aye, I suppose.” Jamie ran a finger softly over his daughter’s lips. She puckered the little pink swells at the contact. He took that as his first kiss from his wee girl.</p><p>Claire settled back into bed and reached for their child. Jamie recognized the need in a mother to touch her babe. He placed the little one in her arms and attached himself to their side.</p><p>“Have ye thought of a name?” asked Mandy.</p><p>“No,” said Claire. “I can’t think of anything that fits.”</p><p>Jamie smirked up at Mandy, “Ye already ken what it will be. Why d’ye no’ just tell us?”</p><p>Mandy shook her head. “I wouldna dare. What if ye would ha’ named her something different had I no’ said a word?”</p><p>Claire laughed, “If it’s an awful name, we’ll just choose something else.”</p><p>Mandy shrugged and flushed. “I canna.”</p><p>“Come now, darling,” Claire grabbed her hand and squeezed. “It’s our daughter. We want to know.”</p><p>Mandy looked to Jamie as though trying to find an ally. She sighed in frustrated defeat. “Fine. I dinna see how it could hurt. Weel, ye ken how I told ye she’s my godmother?”</p><p>“I recall.”</p><p>Mandy reached out and stroked the baby’s soft, downy hair. “I was named for her, and she was named for me. Miss Faith Elizabeth Amanda Fraser.</p><p>“Faith?” said Claire.</p><p>“Aye,” said Mandy.</p><p>Claire looked down at the little one, then back up to Jamie. “What do you think of Faith?”</p><p>“’Tis a fine name, Sassenach. Fitting, I’d say.”</p><p>Claire caressed their daughter’s face and tried out the name for the first time. “Faith. My Faith.”</p><p>“Oh aye. I like that verra much...Wee Faith.”</p><p>They gave a great mutual sigh as they stared at their daughter. Their foreheads pressed together as they watched the child just lay in her mother’s arms and breathe.</p><p>At some point, Mandy brought in Fergus, Jemmy, and Murtagh. Fergus’s eyes were wide with wonder, staring at his little sister. As Jamie listened to the boy promise to teach her all the best ways to pick through a rich man’s purse, Jamie looked up to Murtagh who wore a smile for the first time since they arrived in Paris.</p><p>Jamie nuzzled against Claire’s temple and absorbed the feeling of being completely whole.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>One more chapter (and it's a full one).  Thanks for reading and commenting.  Y'all are lovely.</p><p>Excerpts were from Shakespeare's Sonnet 60 and Romeo and Juliet.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Sept</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is it!  The last chapter.  Enjoy!</p><p>You all can either thank or blame my Hoors™ (I'll let you decide) for the first scene of this chapter. 🍈👅🥛</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“She’s fine, Claire,” Jamie tried to soothe me, even as I saw my worry reflected in his own face. “She’s wi’ her niece.”</p><p>I dissolved into laughter at the absurd thought. Jamie’s laugh followed behind, a pleasant, joyful rumbling. Having our granddaughter take care of our infant child was hard to wrap our minds around, even after all the time we’d spent together.</p><p>“You’re right, of course,” I said. “Faith adores Mandy...and it’s only a few hours…”</p><p>“They’re just down the hall in Mandy’s room, Sassenach.” Jamie kissed my right cheek. “Let’s enjoy a wee bit of time uninterrupted, aye?” He moved his lips to my left.</p><p>“I’ve never been without her so long before. She’s only six weeks old.”</p><p>“Aye,” Jamie grumbled as he kissed down my neck. “Six weeks old, but interfering wi’ our love-making four months before that.”</p><p>He pulled the ribbon on my shift and peeled it off my shoulders. It pooled around my hips where I sat up in bed. His mouth was hot on my achingly, neglected skin. I was just as eager for this as he was...maybe even more so since he’d been able to have a few orgasms during my drought.</p><p>“Yer breasts are sae full!” he buried his face between them, squeezing one in each hand.</p><p>
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</p><p>They were tender and sensitive. Breastfeeding a baby was not for the faint of heart. Breastfeeding a greedy little Fraser baby was a whole other thing entirely. Faith only finished eating about an hour before, but they were already filled with milk again.</p><p>His lips moved over the firm swell, and he kissed his way to my nipple. He latched on quickly, mouth sucking, tongue licking, as he lay me back on the bed.</p><p>“Oh God,” the familiar tingling of let-down started high in my chest, a biting relief that flowed down as milk began coming out. Jamie’s lack of surprise told me this was what he’d intended. He pulled deep, filling his mouth with milk.</p><p>I knew he’d wanted this for some time. He’d been hungrily eyeing my breasts whenever they were exposed, though he’d restrained himself before now. He was biding his time...and his time had come.</p><p>Let-down didn’t discriminate which breast was being suckled, so Jamie moved back and forth between the two, drinking deep. Warm milk dripped down my sides to the soft sheets beneath.</p><p>He was grunting and groaning like a beast, his erection hard on my leg. I wanted him badly, but couldn’t ignore my fears of being penetrated for the first time since childbirth. So, I let him ravish me with his mouth; I let him enjoy my body as fully as he wanted before demanding anything more from him.</p><p>When he had his fill, his mouth traveled lower, accompanied by greedy hands. He gripped the soft, wobbly flesh of my no longer pregnant belly. A part of me feared it would never return back to how it once was, but as Jamie worked his way gluttonously down, the other part of me decided it didn’t matter how I’d changed, so long as he enjoyed it so.</p><p>And when he moved lower still, I realized my darling, thoughtful husband was ensuring my first orgasm after childbirth be given by his mouth. His lips and tongue were so naturally soft, there was no need for him to be cautious. He licked and sucked and kissed with a lust-crazed delirium. I was hypersensitive with lack of use and fell apart with ease under his skilled tongue.</p><p>His mouth lingered on me, gently drawing out residual effects of orgasm. He kissed gently as my body settled down.</p><p>“How is it, mo ghraidh? Are ye alright?” He looked up through his lashes. He was smiling, certain of my answer.</p><p>Speechless, I pulled him up over me and kissed him thoroughly. I could feel the tension in his body. He wanted me badly, but he was restraining himself until I gave him confirmation that I was ready.</p><p>“Go slow,” I said, speaking those words for the first time in my marriage. He nodded with soft eyes and kissed me gently, perhaps to show me he could, or perhaps he was just taking care of me...comforting me.</p><p>“Ye’re sure?”</p><p>I reached down to line up his cock. I was ready. I wanted this. I missed making love to my husband.</p><p>With his weight on his elbows, he cradled my face in his hands. He watched my eyes as he pressed his hips forward. The intrusion was welcome and familiar, though not entirely the same as I remembered. I smiled in relief that there was no pain and felt Jamie’s body relax at my response. He moved in me, eyes still on mine, but starting to glaze over, losing himself in the sensation of making love.</p><p>“Oh God, ye feel different, mo chridhe,” he groaned, thrusting. His face was knotted in concentration, “God it’s magnificent. I canna...”</p><p>He didn’t last long, perhaps only a few dozen strokes. I kissed him as he came in a shuddering huff.</p><p>“Oh, Claire,” he groaned in my ear, “I want it to go on forever, but I canna last a minute.”</p><p>I chuckled at the agony in his voice, “We’ll have to build your tolerance. You’re practically a virgin again.”</p><p>He lifted up on his elbows, grinning. “It felt like it. Everything is so new.” He kissed me with a hum. “Was it alright for ye?”</p><p>I laughed.</p><p>“Weel, for as long as I lasted anyhow,” he chuckled.</p><p>“It was more than alright. No pain. No discomfort.”</p><p>“Good,” he breathed and kissed me again.</p><p>“Have I really changed that much?” The quiet squeak of my voice gave away more insecurity than I intended.</p><p>“Aye,” he grinned, “and no.” He kissed me again, tongue licking to consume. He spoke against my mouth as his pelvis rolled against mine, his cock still semi-hard inside me.</p><p>“My bairn changed ye a bit, Sassenach. Having her somehow made yer body more suited to mine own.” He kissed me again. “I want ye even more now than I did before.” He kissed again. “I havena even left ye, and I need to roger ye once again.” He rolled his hips. “I’ll never have my cock parted from ye for the rest of my days.”</p><p>I wanted to make a joke about the difficulties of having intercourse during daily life activities, like examining patients while being bedded by my husband, but the words were smothered by his mouth and the thought lost to the need rising in me again...</p><p>_________________</p><p>“You’re missing home,” I said to Jamie.</p><p>He was sitting in bed, his legs propped up to hold Faith. As I washed remnants of the last few hours of love-making from my thighs, he was chatting in Gaelic with our daughter, telling her of his horse and all the animals at Lallybroch.</p><p>
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</p><p>Full and content from her last meal, Faith grinned along at the sound of her father’s voice and the exaggerated faces he made as he spoke.</p><p>“Aye, I do miss it,” he said. “We’ll be off as soon as Jared returns. I canna have wee Faith thinking the world smells of naught but arses and armpits. She needs to ken the scent of heather.”</p><p>I sighed heavily, thinking of what else would inevitably happen when we returned to Scotland...what we would lose...</p><p>“Aye, I ken, mo ghraidh. I dinna wish to part with them either, but Jem and Mandy dinna belong in this time.”</p><p>“Neither do I.”</p><p>“Of course ye do. Ye were born in the future only so ye’d ken how to care for our family, but when ye came through the stones, it was just traveling home...to me…where ye belong.”</p><p>“I’ll miss them, is all.”</p><p>“Aye, they’re a braw pair,” he beamed at Faith. “We ken how to make fine bairns, Sassenach, and it seems our children will inherit our talent.”</p><p>I put on my shift and came back to bed. Jamie was tracing the lines of Faith’s pudgy face with his oversized finger. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was spread in a wide smile, each stroke of his finger delighting her more and more. The moment he stopped, she’d open her little eyes and wave her limbs in protest until he caressed her again.</p><p>“Her eyes,” he said. “They’re no’ quite like mine. I dinna think they’ll settle on blue…”</p><p>“It’s too early to say with certainty, but it seems she’ll have your sapphire, but with a ring of gold around the middle.”</p><p>“Aye,” he laughed. “I canna wait to see it in the highland light.”</p><p>“Oh? Is the Scottish sun different than the French sun?”</p><p>“Aye. Every sunrise and sunset changes its colors...every stray cloud distorting the light, every mountain casting a shadow, and every raindrop blurring our sight. I canna wait to see her in all the Scottish suns of my life.”</p><p>“You sound like an artist when you talk like that.” I kissed his shoulder and watched him dote on our little girl. “You must have your mother’s eye.”</p><p>He chuckled, “But my father’s hand. Ye think mebbe one of the children will have my Ma’s talent?”</p><p>“Well, if our grandchildren are any indication of patterns of heritability, I’d say our children have a very good chance of taking after her.”</p><p>“Aye.”</p><p>Faith was fully asleep now, but that didn’t stop her from smiling when he touched her cheek.</p><p>_________________</p><p>Around the time Faith turned three months old, Jared returned home to Paris. We wasted little time preparing for our journey home, not wanting too many questions from Jared about our strange visitors. We set off back to Scotland as a party of seven...but we’d return to Lallybroch as a party of four.</p><p>Thankfully, Faith was thoroughly calmed by the swaying of carriages, horseback riding, and long boat rides. Her father, however, was not. While Jamie was eager to get to Scotland and return to solid ground, but I was dreading the goodbye that I knew was coming along with it.</p><p>“Dinna fash, Granny,” said Mandy as we sat together in a meadow for one last meal before heading up the hill to Craigh Na Dun. “Ye’ll have decades of time wi’ us as soon as yer bairns are grown.”</p><p>“That’s easy for you to say. You’ll be going through the stones straight back to me and Jamie.”</p><p>“Aye, but ye’ll have more years wi’ us ahead of ye than we’ll have wi’ you. Ye’re no spring chicken where I’m headed, ye ken?”</p><p>“Oh, I suppose you’re right.”</p><p>A peal of laughter drew my attention away. Murtagh was holding Faith on his lap, letting her gnaw on an apple with gusto. Her toothless mouth was unable to break through the outer skin, much to Fergus’s amusement.</p><p>“Look how fierce she attacks,” Fergus laughed. “She’s nibbling as ravenously as you did to Suzette’s ears, Murtagh!”</p><p>Murtagh threw a spare apple at Fergus, but the lad dodged it easily enough.</p><p>Not far away, Jamie and Jemmy were sparing one last time. It was a magnificent sight. If I didn’t know what each man was wearing before the fight started, it would be easy to confuse the two when they moved so quickly, so precisely. They were athletes of the highest caliber, swinging deadly weapons at each other’s heads.</p><p>They didn’t stop until they were both exhausted, limbs heavy and feet stumbling. They collapsed on the ground, laughter wheezing from their wasted lungs.</p><p>“Mandy?” I said.</p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p>“You said we changed the future before?”</p><p>“Aye, that’s what ye told us, and what we told ye before that.”</p><p>“Jamie and I have already guessed there was a time when we lost Faith...and a time we never had Fergus?”</p><p>“That seems likely. Aye.”</p><p>“Does that mean...does it mean that there was a time when I didn’t go back to save Jamie in Paris when he was recovering from his wounds?”</p><p>Our eyes met solemnly. “It would appear so.”</p><p>“Then...did he die? How could that be?”</p><p>She shook her head. “I dinna ken, Granny, but…”</p><p>“But what?”</p><p>“Remember that a love like yers transcends time and circumstance. If ye didna save him at the abbey, then I’m sure he found another way to live long enough to find ye. At some point, ye must’ve figured a better way of doing it. Ye’ve been perfecting this life over the course of countless lifetimes. And Jemmy and I will be doing the same thing for ourselves. This gift of moving through the stones isna one that any of us takes for granted.”</p><p>Trying to comprehend her words was making me dizzy. Instead of trying to answer unanswerable questions, I pulled her in for a hug that would have to hold me over for at least a couple of decades.</p><p>_________________</p><p>We stood at the base of Craigh Na Dun and said our final goodbyes. Jamie was holding Mandy’s face in his hands and whispering words in a language I didn’t try to comprehend, tears misting in both their eyes. I noticed they stole more than a glance in my direction as their goodbye lingered on.</p><p>I was wrapped in Jemmy’s arms—arms that were shockingly like Jamie’s. The only thing between us was a squirming little Faith who was pawing at my breast, demanding her next meal. Jemmy spoke to her in quiet Gaelic in a vain attempt to calm her down.</p><p>“We better get a move on,” said Mandy, a hand on Jemmy’s shoulder.</p><p>“Aye,” he said, pulling away and winking at me with both eyes.</p><p>“Bring my sword back to me in one piece,” Jamie commanded, eyeing the fine Damascus blade. Jemmy chuckled heartily and bowed his head to his grandfather.</p><p>Fergus pulled out the gems he’s stolen for their safe trip home and handed one to each of them. We’d agreed Murtagh would be the one escorting them up the hill. Jamie didn’t want Faith or me near the giant rocks that might take us away from him in a blink of an eye.</p><p>The last look we had of our grandchildren was of them waving down at us before disappearing from our lives...but not forever.</p><p>Our jovial spirits were muted by their absence and stayed that way for some time. Adding to our disheartened mood, Murtagh left us a day later to make his way to his own home, eager for peace and fresh highland air.  Jamie assured him he'd be able to manage the horses and carriage fine on his own. </p><p>I didn’t see a genuine smile on anyone’s face until the morning before we arrived at Lallybroch. I was awoken in the early hours by a hungry Faith rooting around at my breast. Jamie and Fergus were already up, sitting next to us on the blanket we’d slept on as a family. The boys were talking quietly and watching the beginnings of the sunrise.</p><p>Faith squeaked and squirmed in my arms until she latched on. It wasn’t until she settled into her feeding that I heard what Jamie was saying.</p><p>“Ye ken, it was only last year Claire and I came through this path to Lallybroch. ’Twas on this very journey we fell in love and started this family. We watched a sunrise from this very spot, and I kent then I’d spend the rest of my life wi’ her.”</p><p>“How did you know, Milord?”</p><p>“Hmphm. I dinna ken. I just did. I felt it wi’ more certainty than anything else I’d ever kent before. That’s how ye’ll ken when ye find yer own wife one day.”</p><p>Fergus scoffed at the idea of him finding a wife. Jamie ruffled his hair and hooked an arm around him.</p><p>“Ye’ll be meeting the rest of the family tomorrow, ye ken.”</p><p>“Oui, Milord. I’ll behave, I swear it.”</p><p>“’Tis only that I’d like to introduce ye my own, aye? As our own son.”</p><p>Fergus’s eyes went wide. He turned to me, and I nodded in confirmation. <em>Our son.</em></p><p>He looked back at Jamie and was speechless for the first time since we met him.</p><p>“The thing is,” said Jamie, “ye’ll need a proper name if we’re to be having introductions.”</p><p>He finally found his voice. “Fergus is a good name, is it not?”</p><p>“Oh, aye. ’Tis a strong and manly name. But ye’ll need more names than that. Ye’ll need a name that tells ye where ye come from...Claudel. And ye’ll require the surname of yer family...Fraser. And ye’ll need one more name…”</p><p>“More than three?”</p><p>“Aye. Ye’ll need a baptismal name.”</p><p>“Where do I get such a name?”</p><p>“I suppose ye can choose it for yerself, if ye like...or I can choose it for ye.”</p><p>“Please, Milord. What is a good baptismal name?”</p><p>“Hmphm.” Jamie grinned impishly. He reached into his sporran and pulled out a small wooden snake. “D’ye ken where Sawny gets his name?”</p><p>Fergus shook his head.</p><p>“’Tis a pet name, a play on the name Alexander. My own baptismal name. My brother carved this snake for me before he died. ’Tis all I have left of him, save the memories of his calling me Sawny.”</p><p>Jamie lifted the snake to Fergus, “What d’ye think of the name Alexander, lad? Ye fancy yerself a Sawny?”</p><p>Fergus was nodding before he ever found his voice. He took the snake from his father and stared down at it with misty eyes. “Oui, Milord. I should think so.”</p><p>“Fergus Claudel Alexander Fraser. First son of the Laird and Lady of Broch Tuarach.”</p><p>Fergus wrapped his fingers around the wooden snake and looked into his father’s eyes. “I’ll care for it always, Milord.”</p><p>“I ken ye will.”</p><p>Fergus threw his arms around Jamie and held him tight. Jamie stroked his wild, curly hair and kissed the top of his head. When he finally released him, Fergus turned and wrapped his arms around me and Faith.</p><p>My heart was painfully full as we watched our first sunrise together as a family a day before we’d arrive to our home.</p><p>“Milord?” asked Fergus.</p><p>“Hmphm?”</p><p>“Does this mean I really must go to university?”</p><p>Jamie and I couldn’t help our laughter despite Fergus’s serious tone. “Aye, laddie. It means just that.”</p><p>Fergus sighed in resignation, but a look of determination manifested in his eyes. He fiddled with the little snake until it was time to pack up and make our way home.</p><p>_________________</p><p>Lallybroch stood just as I left it a year before. Never did I imagine my brief sojourn would last quite this long. Home was a more than welcome sight.</p><p>I was surprised to find my garden had not overgrown. Jenny must have done her best to tend to it in my absence.</p><p>All of Jamie’s animals lost hold of their sanity as soon as they recognized the scent of their master. Fergus was beside himself, playing and wrestling with the filthy dogs who took an immediate liking to him.</p><p>Jenny and Ian rushed out of the house to greet us and meet the two newest members of the family. Our children were immediately pulled away by their auntie and taken to the kitchen to be filled with whatever indulgences she could come up with as Jamie and I were pulled away by their uncle to be filled with alcohol and bannocks.</p><p>
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</p><p>Later that evening, we settled Fergus into his new room next to his cousin, wee Jamie. Jenny had already made the necessary preparations before we arrived. He was surprisingly quiet as he took in the first space he could ever call his own.</p><p>Jamie, Faith, and I retired to the Laird’s room. Faith had her own room, of course, but neither Jamie nor I were ready for her to use it.</p><p>As I washed the road dust off Faith’s scrunched up little face, Jamie began digging through one of our trunks from Paris.</p><p>“What are you looking for?” I asked.</p><p>He didn’t answer right away. When he found the object of his desire, he stood triumphantly and brought the box over to the bed next to us.</p><p>“I know what that is!” I said, delighted.</p><p>“Aye,” said Jamie. “The spoons.”</p><p>He opened the box, the silver apostle spoons glittering majestically in the firelight. His fingers traced over their faces until he landed on the one he was looking for. “St. Andrew.”</p><p>He pulled the spoon out of the box and kissed it softly. He handed it over to Faith, who dutifully snatched the shiny object away from her father and shoved it in her mouth.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Ye’ll be eating parritch like a good Scot in no time,” he chuckled.</p><p>He turned his attention back to the box and searched for another apostle. “Peter,” he said, pulling the spoon out and holding it up to the light.</p><p>“For Fergus?”</p><p>“Aye.”</p><p>“You know what would be lovely? If we had portraits done of the children and displayed them on the wall with their spoons mounted into the frames.”</p><p>His face split into a joyful grin. “Oh aye. That would be verra fine indeed. If only their grandmother were alive to paint them.”</p><p>“Is there another artist we could commission nearby? Or will we have to wait until we travel to Edinburgh?”</p><p>His devilish laugh surprised me. “Indeed there is…”</p><p>“Who?”</p><p>“My Auntie Jocasta.”</p><p>I raised an eyebrow. “The aunt that our future selves encouraged Murtagh to…”</p><p>“Aye...the verra one.”</p><p>“Hmm. Maybe we could ask him to proposition her to do the paintings for us? I’m sure she’d need a traveling companion...if she agrees, of course.”</p><p>Jamie pursed his lips in feigned seriousness, “Oh aye, of course. A <em>traveling</em> companion.”</p><p>He set the box aside, having to wrestle the little spoon away from Faith in order to do so. We sat together on the bed as Faith pulled and yanked on our hair. Sleep would be unlikely to find us for some time with her full of so much energy.</p><p>“Do you think Mandy and Jemmy made it home alright?” I asked.</p><p>“I’m sure they did. They’re as capable as you or I, Sassenach.”</p><p>I sighed. “It just seems such a long time before we see them again...and when we do, they’ll look more like Faith does now than the people we know them to be.”</p><p>“Aye. We’ll help make them the people they'll grow to be.”</p><p>I looked at him with a longing in my heart. “How will we fill the time between now and then?”</p><p>He smiled with glittering eyes, “Weel, there are ten more spoons in that box. Perhaps we’ll get started on making their Ma?”</p><p>Faith grabbed hold of Jamie’s grinning lips and pulled.</p><p>“Wheesht, lassie,” he groaned, extracting his flesh from her grip.</p><p>“Welcome to fatherhood, James Fraser,” I laughed, kissing our daughter on her coppery head.</p><p>“Aye. I suppose my plans will have to wait until the bairn is good and ready.”</p><p>“In due time, my love. In due time.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>****************************<br/>
58 years later<br/>
****************************</p><p>Jamie coughed and sputtered through the last of his breathing treatments for the night. “That’s enough now, Sassenach. I dinna see why ye’re making me endure such a thing.”</p><p>“Because this will keep your lungs working as they should for a time.”</p><p>“I’m an auld man, mo ghraidh. The Lord will take me when he’s good and ready.”</p><p>“Well, he’ll be ready far less imminently if you keep to your treatments.”</p><p>“Hmphm,” he grumbled.</p><p>“You know that my own life won’t last long once you’re gone,” I appealed to his chivalry.</p><p>“Aye, I ken. ’Tis the only reason I’m still enduring.”</p><p>I smiled warmly and kissed his bottom lip, still full and alluring after all our years.</p><p>A surprisingly sharp pinch on my bottom had me laughing with delight. He coughed his way through his own laughter as he squeezed my bottom.</p><p>“Da!” Faith chided, bringing fresh water into the room. The smile on her face told me she wasn’t all that upset with her aging parents’ inappropriate behavior. She poured Jamie a glass and handed it to him. “Drink up,” she insisted.</p><p>“Where’s my whisky?” he demanded.</p><p>“Hmphm,” she grunted as well as her father ever had. “Ye were falling asleep at the dinner table; ye’ve nay need for whisky just before bed.” She turned to me, “Come, Mama, I’ll help ye out of yer stays.”</p><p>I packed away Jamie’s medicines before doing as Faith ordered. I sighed a deep breath of relief when my laces loosened and my shift flowed free.</p><p>A knock door was given as a courtesy, so rarely did anyone respect our privacy anymore. Fergus came in with a book of parchment and moved to his father’s side. I heard some talk of barrels and aging whisky and knew them to be discussing the price they intended to set before he traveled to Edinburgh in the morning.</p><p>I took my time cleaning my teeth and readying myself for bed so they could finish their business. When I crawled in bed, I noticed Jamie sneak a flask back to Fergus, who deposited it silently in his coat pocket. I made no effort to hide my snort of amusement.</p><p>“Is everything alright?” asked Faith from the other side of the room. She was hanging up my dress to air it out for its next use.</p><p>“Oui, mo phiuthar,” said Fergus. I noticed he pulled out his little snake, Sawny, from his pocket and started fiddling with it as he did when he was nervous or excited. “All is well.”</p><p>“Go on, then,” said Jamie, “the both of ye. I’ve only got a few more moments of wakefulness left in me to romance yer Ma.”</p><p>Fergus beamed down at us and kissed us softly goodnight. Faith followed shortly behind. “Are ye sure ye dinna need anything else for the night?” she asked. She stroked her fingers through my hair in her loving way.</p><p>“We’re fine, darling. I’ll call out if we need you.”</p><p>She gave us a kiss and followed Fergus out the door.</p><p>Jamie grumbled. “The wee lass has been interfering wi’ our love-making for fifty-eight going on fifty-nine years now.”</p><p>“Oh, Jamie,” I snuggled into his side.</p><p>He bent his head and kissed me, slow and tender. I noticed his breathing was paced with intention. He knew if he had a coughing fit, I’d make him stop. But his lungs were working well, so I opened my mouth and let his tongue slide in.</p><p>“D’ye think ye have it in ye to climb on top tonight, Sassenach?” he asked, his eyebrow raised hopefully.</p><p>“Your libido certainly hasn’t suffered as much as the rest of your body over the years.” I doubted my body’s ability to mount much of anything for very long, but it might be amusing to try.</p><p>“Look at my wife; can ye blame me?” His lips found mine again.</p><p>
  
</p><p>We were interrupted once more by a knock on the door.</p><p>“Jesus, Mary, and Bride!” Jamie grumbled.</p><p>The door opened and a head of red hair poked through. “Hullo!” said Jeremiah.</p><p>“Jem!” Jamie called, coughing only a moment, all irritation forgotten. “Come in, lad. Is yer sister wi’ ye?”</p><p>“Aye, Grandda,” said Mandy, following behind. “We just arrived from the dun.”</p><p>“All went well, I trust?” I asked.</p><p>“Seeing as how we just met wi’ Uncle Fergus and Auntie Faith downstairs, I’d say so,” said Jemmy, sitting down on the edge of the bed.</p><p>“We’re not certain that’s how this all works.” I leaned over Jamie and kissed them both hello.</p><p>“I ken, I ken.”</p><p>“I left yer microscope and needles in yer surgery, Granny,” said Mandy.</p><p>“Thank you, darling. Did all go as planned?”</p><p>“Aye. Just as ye said.”</p><p>Jamie put a hand on Jemmy’s shoulder. “And you?”</p><p>Jemmy shrugged. “Aye. I suppose so.”</p><p>“Hmphm,” Mandy grumbled. “The fool got himself stabbed twice.”</p><p>Jamie grumbled, “I ken. I didna enjoy sending ye to be injured.”</p><p>“Aye,” said Jem, “but it needed to be done. I tried to avoid it, but wee Fergus was a spritely wee lad.”</p><p>“That he was.”</p><p>“We’re so proud of you, my darlings,” I said. “So very proud.”</p><p>Mandy grabbed my hand and squeezed tight. “Ye didna tell us how much we’d enjoy yer younger selves. I didna want to leave ye.”</p><p>I cupped her youthful cheek in my hand, remembering her face just as it was all those years ago in Paris. “You have no idea how I struggled with letting you go.”</p><p>“Ye did fine,” said Jamie, “both of ye. And there are still twelves spoons mounted in the frames in the hall to prove it so.”</p><p>Mandy nodded, “Aye, we counted them on our way in to be sure.”</p><p>“Good.” Jamie said. Grinning, he patted Jemmy’s leg and nodded to the sword hanging off Jemmy’s belt. “How did it feel to get yer arse beaten by yer Grandda once again? None sae cocky when ye’re facing a man yer own age!”</p><p>Jemmy laughed, “Ye were fast and strong, Grandda, but I held my own against ye, as ye verra well ken.”</p><p>“Aye, I mind. I mind verra well.”</p><p>I noticed dark, puffy circles under both the grandchildren’s eyes and realized they probably hadn’t slept much to get home as soon as possible. “You two must be exhausted from your travels...and hungry! Did you get something to eat?” I asked.</p><p>“Auntie Marsali is warming us up some stew,” said Mandy. “Dinna fash.”</p><p>“Go on, then. We’ll talk more about your adventures tomorrow. Eat up and get plenty of rest in the meantime.”</p><p>We kissed them both and gave as fierce of hugs as our old, frail bodies would allow. Mandy made her way straight to the door, but Jemmy took a quick detour. He stopped at the mantle and pulled Jamie’s sword off his belt. He placed it carefully back up on its mount where it would hopefully sit unused for the rest of Jamie’s life.</p><p>Jemmy turned and gave us one more look of the deepest affection before winking with two eyes and taking his leave.</p><p>Jamie and I turned to each other when we were alone once again. He raised a hand to caress my cheek. “It all turned out as planned,” he said.</p><p>“It did. Any regrets? We’ve only one more chance to fix things...when I go back after you…”</p><p>“After I die,” he finished. He sat quietly, appearing to consider my question with some degree of depth. “No, we’ve remedied all my fixable regrets in this lifetime and countless others. How about ye, Sassenach? D’ye have any regrets ye’d like to fix when ye return back through the stones?”</p><p>I thought about everything we’d been through together, all the memories my mind could wrap itself around. The answer was the easiest one I’d ever come up with. I leaned forward and kissed him tenderly. “Not a one. I’ve loved every bit of our life.”</p><p>“Then we’ll do it all again just so the next time.”</p><p>“And the time after that.”</p><p>“And every time after that.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yes...there are ten more spoons...👀.  Yes...there are several more stories planned for this universe (all told in the same spirit and flavor of these last two...and with a few of their own surprises), so you may want to subscribe to the Basia Mille series if you want a notification when I start posting them.</p><p>This will be the last update for any stories I have for a few months.  I'm planning a nice robust sequel to TSOM for my first official Outlander BangsGiving celebration.  I'm calling the story, "Fire Closest Kept." (Yes, I had to change the name, and YES, it should only be referred to as FCK).  I'll start posting it November 18, 2020 and then a chapter a day until Thanksgiving (US).</p><p>Thank you to my Hoors™️  for your unending support.  </p><p>Thank you everyone for reading and sharing your thoughtful, motivating comments.  Much, much love.</p>
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